


A Dark Pact

by ScarletLetters



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Battle Scenes, Blood and Gore, Bondage, Character Death, Dark Jack Frost, Demons, F/M, Fear, Fearlings, Good Pitch Black, Good and Evil, Hate Sex, Love, Luxury, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Nightmares, Porn Battle, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Royalty, Strip Tease, Torture, Violence, What-If, World Domination
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletLetters/pseuds/ScarletLetters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost accepts Pitch Black's offer for comradeship in Antarctica, sick of being treated as a pawn for the Guardians. Pitch awakens something dark in Jack that even he didn't know was there. Lots of Pitch/Jack. Possible Jack/Tooth later. Not a fluffy story for anyone expecting such.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decisions and Shadows

I do not own Rise of the Guardians, all characters go to their respectable owners, be nice, first work I'm posting. :) Just a small chapter to see if there's interest out there, future one's will be longer.

 

“I don’t know what it’s like to be cast out!?” Pitch cried, throwing up a wall of black sand against Jack’s frozen onslaught.  


Jack spun about in the air as Pitch disappeared behind the ice, both dodging out of the way. Jack landed some ways away, staff pointed and ready, eyes blistering with rage.  


“To not be believed in!?” came a call from behind him, and Jack spun around, pointing his staff at Pitch’s despaired face. “To long for a. . . family!” Pitch cried, and Jack’s eyes softened as he lowered his staff.  


He knew that feeling all too well.  


“All those years in the shadows I thought, no one else knows what this feels like,” Pitch continued, clearly speaking truthfully to the Guardian before him. “And now I see I was wrong,” he whispered, eyes lifting to Jack and a long gray hand stretched wide towards him.  


Jack’s entire face dropped, eyebrows crunching together as he felt, sympathy. Sympathy for a creature as wretched as Pitch Black. The damn Boogeyman.  


He felt sorry for him. He took a step back, astounded at his emotions and contemplating his next move.  


“We don’t have to be alone, Jack,” Pitch whispered, moving towards him, his face still agonized and hand still palm up, outstretched as a gesture of peace. “I believe in you,” he said, moving around behind Jack. 

“And I know children will too!”  


“Me?” Jack whispered, looking up at Pitch with doubt rimming his icy eyes.  


“Yes!” Pitch exclaimed, moving around Jack again and motioning above the two of them. “Look at what we can do!”  


Feet away there stood a massive icicle, nearly thirty feet tall and spiked to the side. It was streaked with Pitch’s black nightmare dust, and utterly breathtaking.  


Jack looked up at it, mesmerized. It was beautiful.  


“What goes together better than cold and dark?!” Pitch yelled, throwing his hands out to the sides and chuckling lightly. “We can make them believe! We’ll give them a world where everything! Everything is-”  


“Pitch Black?” Jack intercepted, an eyebrow raised accusingly.  


Pitch stood there for a minute, then lifted a finger and motioned towards Jack, eyes wide.  


“And Jack Frost,” he said. “They’ll believe in both of us,” and Jack wanted to believe him.  


Would he really be able to join up with Pitch though? To betray Man in Moon, and the other Guardians?  


What had they done for him anyways? Before he was chosen by the Moon to be a Guardian he spent his years alone, never approached by any of the others, never offered any explanation or companionship of any sort. The Moon hadn’t told him more than his goddamn name!  


He spent centuries alone, the only contact he had with another being when he messed with the Guardian’s holidays, and then it was only with distaste that they conversed with him. Looking to him like a mess; just like Pitch had said.  


He didn't want to scare children, but he was desperate for power, in that moment, he saw himself, perched high on his staff, by Pitch’s side as they ruled the Earth.  


His blue eyes flashed with something dark, his heart twisting in anticipation; a smile spread across his lips.  


“I’ll do it,” Jack whispered, squaring his shoulders. “I want to see them weak, and miserable, and alone. Just like I was.” He paused, looking at the Boogeyman. “I want power.” Jack clenched white knuckles by his sides.  


Pitch’s golden eyes flared wickedly, and his grin nearly took his pointed ears.  


“That’s. . . wonderful!” Pitch yelled, spinning in a circle and fading into the shadow of the giant icicle still to their side.  


The King of Nightmares reappeared behind Jack, grabbing the little sprites shoulders and shaking him gently. “I knew it! I’m so excited!” he then spun Jack around to look him directly in the eyes, and he found that the man nearly had to double over to be at eye level with him. “Jack Frost . . . we’re going to change the world,” he said coolly, his grin breaking through his serious face like he couldn't contain his glee and he spun off again.  


Jack stood there, watching Pitch dance in the snow, and went wide-eyed when tendrils of shadow burst out from the man, tainting the perfect white and dancing along with their master.  


Jack took a step backwards as one of the tendrils shot out towards him, but before he could even properly react the thing had wrapped around his leg and snaked up to his waist. Panicking, he called on the wind to pull him from its grasp, but found he was stuck fast. It had already wrapped his arms tight to his sides before he could muster a gasp.  


“Pitch!” he yelled, fear evident in his voice.  


The Shadow Master was beside Jack impossibly fast, smirking down at him, then ran a hand down the winterling’s staff, leaving a scar of darkness on the wood, and he inhaled, deeply.  


“Oh, Frost,” he growled, inhaling as deep as he could then exhaling quickly, just to inhale again, like he couldn't get enough of Jack’s scent.  


Jack’s eyes grew wider and he struggled against the shadow rope.  


“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, you naïve little boy,” Pitch chuckled darkly, looking at Jack with something in his eyes the ‘boy’ didn't wish to identify. “It’s rare to smell fear on you. . . It suits you,” Pitch’s eyes closed then, his hand coming up to snatch Jack’s wiggling chin.  


He caught it easily with long, deft fingers that made Jack’s mind wander and held it still. The Nightmare King studied the little sprites terrified face with dark eyes, a smile evident on his lips. He then quickly ran his thumb over Jack’s bottom lip, and Jack nearly jumped out of his skin.  


With a small nod, the shadows disappeared and Jack was on his behind in the snow, icy eyes nearly popping from his skull. He brought a frozen finger up to brush along his lip, staring at Pitch.  


Pitch kneeled down and sat on his heels, looking at Jack again with that look, and then offered out a slender hand. Jack wanted to wipe that smirk off his face with a ball of ice.  


Jack brushed the hand away and stood, smacking the snow off of himself, as much as the bewilderment. He felt a twinge in his stomach as Pitch’s shadow-things wiggled just beyond his natural shadow, and didn’t dwell on whether it was disgust or desire.  


“So, what now?” Jack asked, deciding to ignore all that; being allied with the Nightmare King he decided that some strange occurrences were to be expected.  


Pitch didn’t reply, just stood there, gazing at the statue the two of them had created, then he glanced up at the Moon. Jack joined him in that, gazing at the moon with an apology on his lips, then he scowled and looked away, back flipping up into the air to perch on the top of his staff, perfectly balanced. He was eye level with Pitch now.  


“How long have you existed, Jackson?” Pitch asked, his voice like silk.  


The question caught Jack a bit off guard; he hadn’t been called Jackson in a very long time.  


“Three hundred years . . . give or take,” he said, thinking how many years that sounded like, to be alone, to have no one. Hurt flashed over his eyes. He looked at Pitch, “How old are you?”  


“I’ve honestly lost track, little one. I was here before The Man in the Moon was though. I was never chosen like you or the others, I have no idea what I did to deserve this special form of hell,” he spat, snapping his gaze to Jack. “I have dreams sometimes you know,” he whispered, and at Jack’s incredulous expression, he chuckled. “When I decide to sleep, I dream of a woman and a little girl, both with dark hair, my family I imagine, they’re calling for me, like if I just reach out I can escape this hell with them. But my body is paralyzed, and I always wake with the image of the damned Moon behind my eyes!” Pitch spat, glaring back up at the offending rock.  


“Why are you telling me this?” Jack asked, intrigued.  


“Because, I need you to see me for what I once was. Not just a tool to get back at the Guardians temporarily. I need a companion Jackson, this life has been so monotonous I sometimes sit underground for decades, not moving, barely thinking. The last time my life was enjoyable was the Dark Ages, and that was many a lifetime ago and not nearly long enough. I care not for humans, intolerant creatures, wasting their lives on frivolities that do not benefit them and initiate wars that destroy them. They let corrupt men run their country and walk past starving men without a second thought, thinking of less fortunate beings to be disgusting! And I’m the villain? If you’re in this, Jackson Overland Frost, you’re fucking in this with me for the rest of days. If you betray me, so help me you will be buried alive in a box with the skeletons of your friends,” Pitch said, almost whispering the last part. His golden and silver eyes were living fire in his head, boring into Jack for any point of weakness.  


He found none, and when fear didn’t radiate off Jack in waves, Pitch looked satisfied.  


“I’m with you,” Jack said, jumping off his staff and offering his right hand to Pitch. “Partners?” he said, looking the Boogeyman in his sparkling eclipse eyes and smiling wickedly.  


Pitch smiled back and clapped his hand into Jack’s.  


When Jack touched Pitch’s hand, the shadows on the Nightmare King’s arm extended and wrapped part of Jack’s hand in shadow. The winter sprite ripped his hand away, scratching at the shadows covering his entire hand.  


“Pitch! What is this!?” Jack yelled, panicking. When he looked back at Pitch, the Boogeyman’s eyes were more gold then he had ever seen them, and his shadows were once again leaking onto the snow, not coming towards Jack, just writhing around their master.  


Jack looked back at his hand, still trying to wipe away the nothingness that was Pitch’s power, when he felt a pinch on the back of his hand, like someone was lightly dragging a razor in random patterns beneath the shadow. He screamed when he saw blood running down his arm, out from underneath the shadow.  


“Pitch!” Jack screamed again. “Stop!” he begged, and when he looked up to the Shadow Master, he wasn’t there.


	2. Jaime Bennett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch tests Jack's loyalty with the one thing that might make the winterling break.

A hand on the spirits shoulder made him jump and throw a punch out behind him in defense.  


His hand went right through Pitch’s chest.  


“Your fear is damn intoxicating, Frost,” Pitch whispered, looking down at the teen. He brought his hand forward and grasped Jack’s wrist firmly, and the younger did not fight against his grasp.  


He watched in amazement as the shadows on Jack’s bleeding hand were vacuumed up into Pitch’s hand, who growled deeply as soon as they were all gone, his eyes briefly closing and a terrible smile flashing across his mouth as he squeezed Jack’s wrist tighter.  


With Pitch still holding his wrist, Jack turned his hand over in his grasp; then was staring wide-eyed at the back of it.  


There, embedded in his swollen skin, was a sigil. It was writhing underneath his white hand, appearing as to be made of shadows, but Jack didn't recognize what it meant.  


“What is this?” Jack whispered, pulling his hand closer as Pitch let go, shivering in fear. What did this mean? Pitch marked him! Was he going to die? What did this symbol stand for?  


He kept staring at his hand until Pitch’s deep voice interrupted his thoughts.  


“It’s a mark of comradeship, of our friendship,” he said, smiling warmly at Jack, though the boy still noticed how Pitch had that predatory gleam in his eyes.  


Almost on queue, Pitch spoke up again.  


“I can’t help but want to devour you when you smell like that,” he whispered, smiling widely, revealing his now perfect and slightly fanged teeth. “I am the Nightmare King, Jackson. Fear does things to me that I cannot control. Especially smelling it on you, a former Guardian, allied with me!” he said, almost giddy in his excitement.  


“I understand,” Jack said, still shaking.  


But understand he did, whenever he was afraid, he knew Pitch could sense it, fed from it. He looked back at his hand, ran his fingers over it, and it reacted, bending towards wherever Jack was touching it. 

Freaked out, he looked back at Pitch, clenching his hand into a fist by his side.  


“What happened to your. . . teeth?” Jack asked, wondering why the older man’s teeth had gone from the Dentist’s nightmare to Tooth’s dream teeth; minus the slight fanged edge to them.  


“Power,” he said without hesitation. “The more power I obtain, the more I can control my appearance. I have never been allied with anyone, let alone one as powerful as you,” he whispered, looking at Jack with awe in his eyes. “Just imagine, Frost. When you actually grow in power, what you will be capable of! What we will be capable of!” he yelled, shadows writhing around him again, darkness sweeping around him like an aura. “Control of the weather and the shadows,” he looked at Jack. “Frost,” he whispered, chuckling slightly. “We will be unstoppable.”  


Jack believed him. He looked up at Pitch with a smile on his face, the sigil forgotten.  


Honestly, Jack thought to himself, he liked it. A symbol of a new start, of his rebellion. He refused to become just another Guardian, existing for no other purpose than to be a pawn of the moon!  


“Unstoppable,” he echoed, and Pitch smiled down at him, smiling a perfect, terrifying smile.  


“Now then, Jack Frost,” Pitch said, clapping his hands. “Shall we?” he offered a hand to the smaller male, who took it without even a thought, walking hand and hand with Pitch into the shadow of the great icicle.  


Then they were falling into blackness. Jack tried to scream but nothing came out, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t see. He held tighter to Pitch’s hand, which then yanked him to the side.  


And then they were in Pitch’s lair.  


Jack sucked in a great lungful of air, his eyes burning and ears felt like they had a tornado in them. He coughed, once, twice, three times before he could breathe properly.  


He looked up at Pitch, who was sitting patiently on a simple throne carved from black stone. Jack stood, standing on shaky legs.  


“What the hell was that?!” he said as loud as he could, which wasn’t more than a hoarse whisper.  


“Shadow travel, fabulous isn’t it? I forgot to mention that the sigil also allowed you to journey with me through them,” he said, smiling, and Jack knew that he didn’t forget anything he meant to say to him.  


Jack looked around, Pitch’s sparsely lit globe was to his left, more than five times the size it was when Jack saw it last. Nearly as big as North’s. The cages above him were silent.  


He wandered over to the globe, brushing his white hand across the cold metal, leaving a trail of frost across part of Australia.  


“Looks like there’s gunna be a snow storm across half the continent,” Pitch said from his throne, chuckling to himself.  


Jack looked over to him.  


“Wait . . . anything I do on this globe happens to that part of the Earth?” Jack asked, incredulous.  


Pitch stood and shadow-traveled to stand behind Jack. “Yes, Jackson. Did North not tell you?” the Nightmare King asked, petting one of his nightmare-sand horses that had wandered over.  


Jack looked at the nightmare, thinking about petting it himself, but the horse suddenly snapped its gaze to him, and Jack flew to the top of the globe it surprised him so. The horse glared at him with golden eyes, and he felt his fear expand quickly inside him.  


“Now now,” he heard Pitch whisper, petting the horse still. “Don’t scare our guest, Onyx,” he said, slapping the horse on the rear, sending it sprinting away, neighing so loud it sounded like screaming.  


Jack looked at Pitch, fear bubbling inside of him.  


Pitch’s clap nearly made Jack jump out of his shoes; figuratively speaking.  


“The globe!” he yelled, walking closer to it. Jack sat back on his heels, still on top of the huge thing. “The globe is a direct representation of the world, whatever we do to it, happens to the world. As well as all the children that believe in the guardians,” to show Jack what he meant, Pitch was suddenly on top of the globe.  


The Nightmare King motioned for Jack to look around, and Jack saw five lights left, still glowing strong. He heard Pitch chuckle darkly.  


Then stomped on one of them; Jack watched his eyes glow, and his robe go from grey to perfect black.  


“Amazing,” he heard Pitch whisper. Pitch then danced again, grabbing Jack and pulling him along for the ride, waltzing with him across the top of the globe. Jack had never danced with someone in his life, and he found that Pitch’s shadows were pulling and positioning his feet perfectly to dance with the Boogeyman.  


Soon Jack was laughing along with Pitch, and when Pitch asked Jack if he was ready, he just said yes.  


Pitch launched him into the air, and before Jack could scream, he landed perfectly on his feet, with a light right in between his bare toes.  


Pitch danced over, holding a shadow mass as a partner. “Stomp it out!” Pitch yelled, letting the shadow partner dispel into nothing and looking at Jack with anticipation.  


Jack stared at it.  


“Is that-” he started, but Pitch cut him off.  


“Yes. It’s a child. A child who still believes. She needs to be showed the real world. A world where no jolly old bastard breaks and enters, or no creepy fucking fairy collects teeth! Or no gigantic bunny rabbit walks around hiding eggs for little kids like a goddamn pedophilic freak!” Pitch was screaming at this point, furious beyond what Jack had ever seen. His black hair was like a crown atop his head, now streaked with almost unnoticeable silver and gold.  


He was right though. The Guardians. They were jokes. He laughed slightly, and Pitch snapped his gaze to him, still in the thralls of his rage.  


“They’re jokes!” he yelled, laughing loudly.  


He watched Pitch’s face untwist from his anger and a smile spread across his face.  


“Stamp her out, Jack Frost,” Pitch whispered, his words like silk.  


Still smiling, Jack looked back at the globe; and slammed his foot down on the light.  


Ice shot out from every angle as his foot came down incredibly hard, freezing half of Europe. Immediately he felt a tingle rush up his leg into his torso, and he felt instantly better. Not that he didn’t feel good before, but now he felt better. Stronger. Like he had taken that little girls hope and sucked it into his body in the form of pure power. The sigil on his hand glowed briefly and burned for a second.  


He looked at Pitch, awe spread clearly across his frozen eyes.  


“It’s wonderful isn’t it?!” Pitch exclaimed, ushering the still stunned Jack over to another point. “Have anot-”  


Jack stamped it out before Pitch could even finish, bringing his foot down lightly, just touching it with the tip of his little toe. He heard Pitch’s utterly delighted laugh, then he spotted another light, to which he flew over to and tapped with his finger, backflipping in the bliss he felt afterwards.  


The euphoria that spread to his every nerve felt blissfully dark, and evil, and utterly succulent. He wanted; no, needed more.  


“Two left!” Pitch yelled, racing to one and blowing shadow from the palm of his hand to loiter over the light, snuffing it out.  


“One,” Jack whispered, looking down at the light between his feet.  


Pennsylvania.  


Burgess.  


Jaime.  


He kept staring at it.  


He couldn’t do it.  


What was he doing?!  


Tears welled up behind his eyes.  


_Jaime._  


“Do it, Jack,” Pitch whispered from behind him. “He’s the last one on Earth. The power you will absorb will top whatever you have felt before in your life. That child is bearing all the worlds weight of belief on his shoulders! He’s the last one left. Then we can really have some fun,” Pitch said into his ear, Jack could feel the Nightmare King’s breath. Goosebumps raced across his skin like wildfire, his brain cloudy from the power already whipping around inside of his chest.  


“I- I don’t know if I can,” he choked out, afraid to show weakness in front of Pitch. He was holding himself back from stomping it out in reality, but, the power.  


The raw, insane, darkness inside of him that made him feel like he could take on all four of the Guardians and build their bones and flesh into a throne to put beside Pitch’s. He wanted to watch the Guardians burn. He wanted to smile into their shattered souls and devour everything that was precious to them. They treated him like a nuisance before, now when they look into his eyes he wants them to know-  


He stopped. Eyes wide.  


He wants them to know fear. Just like the fear he felt when he looked at Pitch.  


He felt the darkness inside of him grow and writhe around in response.  


“Don’t be afraid, Jack,” Pitch said, breathing faster, Jack’s fear no doubt heavy in his head. “He won’t hurt from it, it will just open up his eyes to the truth.”  


“He won’t be hurt?” Jack asked, kneeling down beside the light and running his fingers along the globe a few inches away from Jaime.  


He heard Pitch’s noise of disgust at Jack’s tender gesture, and sensed the room growing darker.  


Jack knew he had to make a choice, and fast. Nightmare horses were beginning to gather around the globe, stomping and huffing black smoke.  


He thought about Jaime, and when his mother had said, “Don’t want Jack Frost nipping at your nose!” Jaime’s response had been, “Who’s Jack Frost?”  


Jack slammed his fist into the light.  


“Fuck you, Jaime,” he heard himself say.  


He felt the globe bend under the weight of his punch, and looked in horror as Jaime’s light was still pulsing, if not marginally dimmer.  


“What does that mean?” Jack asked, looking up at Pitch, who had a dark smile on his face.  


Am I not powerful enough? Jack thought, panic rising up his throat.  


Thinking the Nightmare King angry, Jack kept quiet, waiting for Pitch to kill him or worse, then he saw the wide grin under the shadow.  


“It means we’re going on a field trip, Frost.”

Less than a minute later they were standing on the street across from Jaime’s house. Jack was gasping for air and Pitch was just waiting for the winter sprite to catch his breath.  


Jack stood, clutching his chest. He felt better than he did when he first shadow-travelled though, the darkness behind his ribs fuelling his rage and strength.  


He didn’t breathe for more than forty-five seconds in the hellish nightmare plane, and his heart was racing from the panic. Terrified, he looked at Pitch. There was too much panic and fear in his chest, he was going to drive Pitch insane.  


“I’m sorr-” he started to say, but Pitch held up a hand.  


“It’s quite alright,” he said deeply, turning to face Jack with a wild looking grin on his face. Jack backed away when he saw Pitch’s eyes literally glowing and pulsating within his head. “I need to be riled up for this!” he laughed, a maniacal thing that sent goosebumps along Jack’s skin.  


Jack was about to ask what they were going to do, when Pitch grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the slim shadow under a fence.  


They appeared in Jaime’s room, Jack falling to all fours to catch his breath yet again.  


“You’ll get used to it,” Pitch said, not whispering at all.  


Jack was doubtful of that.  


He stood and looked at Jaime’s sleeping form.  


So peaceful, Jack almost smiled, then remembered what they were here to do.  


Pitch stood over Jaime like a predator, and motioned to Jack to stand on the opposite side. Pitch lifted a finger, and Jack copied him, then tapped Jaime lightly on the forehead. Jack did the same on Jaime's other temple; and watched with sick fascination as a shadow formed a headband around Jaime, and a small part of the winter sprite panged with regret, but this is what he wanted. He was a part of it. He was sick of not being believed in. And if that meant that Jaime had to stop believing in the Guardians, this is what had to happen.  


He felt a brief pang of guilt for abandoning the Guardians and he looked at Jaime with sad eyes, who was now writhing on the bed, sweating, clearly suffering from a terrible nightmare.  


On cue, The Nightmare King gave a cackle, looking at Jack, who still had the despaired look on his face.  


He was immediately at Jack’s back, a hand on the shorter man’s shoulder.  


“Give it a minute,” Pitch whispered, moving to stand beside Jack, and dragging his long hand along Jack’s neck, sending chills along the ice sprites body.  


An earthquake.  


Everything was shaking violently, Jack was reminded of the boom when he defeated Pitch’s nightmare tsunami, but this was stronger. He backed up to the wall and hung on for dear life, thunder booming directly above them and cackling like Pitch’s laughter.  


He felt shadow hands on his then suddenly they were back on the street. And Jack heard Jaime _scream_.  


It was the worst scream that Jack had ever heard, like all the pain in the world was in that little boys body. The scream lasted only a few seconds, but by the end of it Jack was in tears.  


_What have I done?!_ Jack thought, falling to his knees. Then he remembered Pitch’s words and stood quickly, grabbing the Nightmare King by his robes and yanking him down to eye level.  


“You said it wouldn’t hurt him!” Jack screamed into Pitch’s smiling face.  


“It’s not pain, dear Frost,” Pitch said, looking at Jack with a rare flash of tenderness behind his eclipse eyes. “It’s fear,” he whispered, smiling down at the little sprite.  


“Come with me,” he said, grabbing Jack’s small hand and pulling him into the shadows.


	3. Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch takes Jack back to his lair to 'seal the deal', so to speak.

They arrived at Pitch’s lair on a central dais that Jack didn’t recognize. In the center was Pitch’s throne, along with a smaller one to its right, carved roughly from stone.  


“For you,” Pitch said, motioning towards the throne. “You need to coat it in your magic; in ice. And together we will sit,” Pitch said, walking up the stairs to stand very near to his seat.  


Jack just stood there, wondering what he had gotten himself into, mad with rage or not, was this seriously a good idea? As soon as that thought crossed his mind he looked down at his hand, the sigil was burning, looking like it was having a seizure under his skin.  


He ignored it, rubbing the sensitive skin over top of it, minding the small cut where Pitch injected the shadow under his skin. His very own living tattoo.  


Gross.  


He looked up at Pitch, standing patiently beside his throne, starting at Jack with those intense eyes.  


“Now Frost, we don’t have much time,” Pitch said, motioning to Jack’s throne.  


He was about to ask time for what, when he heard the thunder crackling high above and below them, and pure nightmare sand started blowing into tiny whirlwinds all around them. He looked at Pitch, who motioned him to his throne again.  


Jack worked quickly, pointing his curved staff at it and simply coating the throne, not refining it into anything pretty like what Pitch did with his throne. All wavy lines and pretty spikes.  


“Come now,” Pitch said, motioning Jack over to stand directly in front of his throne. Pitch rubbed his hands together like the excited villain that he was and looked at Jack with a look of pure glee. “Never have I been able to perform this ritual with another, I wonder how the shadows will react,” Pitch mumbled, mostly to himself.  


Disturbed, Jack turned and rested his staff on the steps beside him, wanting it close in case he needed it, and waited for Pitch to tell him what to do.  


Pitch looked back at Jack and smiled as he slid his long black robe off of his muscled shoulders and let it fall to the floor where it disappeared into nothing; leaving him clad only in black pants.  


His chest was incredible. Toned and dark-grey with striking black tattoos all over his torso, front and back, Jack realized as he peeked around the man’s wide shoulders.  


Pitch just stood there smiling at Jack, then motioned at him.  


“What?” Jack asked, feeling self-conscious in front of the menacing Nightmare King.  


“You may want to strip, I’ve only performed this ritual twice in my existence and both times the clothes were burned from my body.”  


Gulping deeply from the images that just injected into his brain, he decided to just get it over with and threw his sweatshirt off over his head and let it fall onto the staircase a few feet away. Then he looked at Pitch, ready to go.  


“Jack,” Pitch whispered, chuckling and blatantly raking his eclipse eyes down Jack’s pale chest. “The pants might want to come off as well, unless you want to walk about without them after we’re done.”  


Jack could hear the smile in his voice.  


“Well why aren’t you taking off yours?” Jack asked innocently.  


“These are shadows, dear Jack,” Pitch said, motioning to his legs, which were now wiggling about and showing select patches of skin.  


“Well. . . I’d rather not be in my birthday suit in front of you if you don’t mind,” he paused. “Can I have a pair of them?”  


Pitch’s ensuing smile made Jack regret even asking. Something dark was festering in that brain of his, and the winter sprite didn’t like what he saw coming.  


Shadows shot out from the Nightmare King and wrapped tightly around Jack’s ankles, slowly tickling their way up to his knees, Jack blushed.  


Then to his thighs; Jack felt himself growing hard and bit down on his cheek to stop a moan.  


Then to his crotch, wrapping around his hipbones and ass to squeeze lightly and grip him like a glove, everywhere.  


Jack’s blush intensified and he looked at Pitch with a scowl on his face.  


“I still need to take off my pa-”  


Before Jack even finished he felt a mass on his toes; shadows bundling below him.  


He was then hoisted, yelling, above the ground, and the shadows quickly slipped his pants off whilst still concealing him. When he was deposited back onto the stone in front of his throne he was blushing more than ever and huffing in protest.  


He looked at Pitch again, who looked like he was lost in thought, a mischievous smirk on his face and eyes slightly glossy.  


Pitch then looked back at him, and when their eyes met Jack felt the shadows quiver under their master’s gaze, and Jack shivered along with them.  


He still felt naked.  


“Are you ready to become a god, Jack Frost?” Pitch said, his voice deep and raspy.  


Jack nodded in response, copying Pitch as he stood in front of his throne, back facing it.  


“Don’t move your feet, no matter what, _don’t move them ___,” Pitch said clearly to him, and Jack felt fear rising up his throat as he nodded and faced forward.  


He was looking into darkness in front of him, shadows that quivered and shifted unnaturally, and went completely still as several chunks of darkness broke off, combined into a larger one and started jerking weirdly in their direction.  


“Veni, et Umbra,” Pitch murmured. “Come, Shadow,” he repeated in English. He heard the Nightmare King chuckle when the shadow jerked the opposite way. “Nolite temere, fear not.”  


The shadow jerked again, into a semi-human form, then was suddenly in front of Pitch, who simply held out his hands, palm up. He looked directly at what Jack assumed was the things face.  


Jack’s mouth fell open when the creature produced a beautifully ornate black crown. It was spiked upwards in a way that matched Pitch’s hair, and seemed to shimmer when it caught the light.  


The thing offered the crown to Pitch, who didn’t take it with his hands, rather bent down and let the shadow thing place it on him.  


While Jack was looking at Pitch’s wonderful figure, the shadow slithered over to stand in front of the ice lord, who fought well a scream at seeing the thing suddenly in front of him.  


Shaking in his shadow-pants, Jack copied Pitch again and placed his hands out, palm up, looking the thing right in the face. Or he hoped.  


He hands shook wildly.  


He felt the evil of the thing seething off of its corporeal body, and nearly lost his nerve when nothing happened.  


Pitch barked something in whatever language he was speaking, Latin he thought, and the shadow jerked weirdly to the side.  


Then from its chest came a single band of a crown, a dull grey affair that made Jack’s heart drop a little.  


“Bend,” Pitch said curtly.  


Jack did just that, letting the shadow man place the band on top of his wild hair.  


As soon as the band touched his head he felt it. The raw power deep in his belly. It was multiplying, it felt like it was going to burst from his nethers and consume everything around him.  


He felt _so powerful ___.

_"Are you ready to become a god, Jack Frost?" ___

Focusing back to reality, he realized something was wrong.  


Instead of backing away though as Jack expected, when the winter sprite came to he was still looking at the thing.  


Suddenly, a hunk of shadow whipped forward and slapped onto Jack’s neck, choking him.  


Pitch was screaming in Latin, but didn't come over to remove the thing physically from Jack.  


“Don’t move your feet,” echoed in his head.  


The shadow didn't loosen its grip on Jack’s neck in the least, even when Pitch started chanting in a different language.  


His vision was starting to black out, and clawing at the arm wasn't doing anything.  


_I’m more powerful than this! Even without my staff! ___Jack screamed in his head, and locating the power he could feel in his belly, Jack steeled his frame and focused on the mass in front of him, grabbing onto the things arm with both of his hands.  


And he screamed.  


The room exploded with ice shards and blue lightning that blinded the winter sprite, it funneled into a cone in front of him, continuing to pour from his mouth even when he was breathless.  


He felt the hand on his neck release, and halted the magic.  


His feet stayed in the same spot, but when the snow cleared from the room the shadow was nowhere to be seen. He looked around frantically, but his eyes only fell upon Pitch, who was standing there, mouth open and eyes wide.  


“Jack-”  


“What the hell was that!?” Jack interjected, furious at the Nightmare King. “What was that thing?! Why did a shadow just try to kill me?! _How! ___”  


Pitch sighed, “That wasn't a shadow, Jack.”  


Jack gave him a _‘well?!’ ___look.  


“It was a demon named Shadow.”  


Jack deadpanned, “WHAT? A demon? Don’t treat me like an idiot, Pitch.”  


“I call it a demon, but I’m not entirely certain I know what it is. The only thing it’s told me is it’s name,” he said, moving to sit on his throne and rub the bridge of his nose with his fingers.  


"Feels fucking _amazing ___," Pitch whispered, grinning at Jack with pure gold eyes.  


Jack stood there, not wanting to move from his spot, and pivoted slightly to face Pitch.  


“Is it. . . yours?” Jack whispered, looking at the Nightmare King warily.  


Pitch sighed, “No, not completely. It’s more a part of me,” he said, petting a small nightmare-sand colt that had wandered over to see what the commotion was about. He then looked at Jack and threw him his tan pants, not his sweatshirt though.  


The winter sprite again gave Pitch ‘the look’.  


“Can I have my sweatshirt?” Jack deadpanned, slipping his pants on quickly. Good thing too because he felt Pitch’s shadow’s hold him tightly and start to massage his legs before he felt their tickle disappear.  


“Shadow took it. Sorry,” the Nightmare King said, and Jack knew it to be a lie but didn't have it in him to call the King out on it.  


“Anyways!” Pitch sighed, “You know how I told you that I existed before Man in Moon was ever here?” At Jack’s nod he nodded as well. “The last day that I was still human, I remember what happened. I was a General in some army, my former name escapes me, and I was burdened with guarding a prison. But the wonderful twist,” he wiggled his index finger at the sky, “Was that the inmates were not exactly from this dimension.”  


“What does that even mean?” Jack asked, frustrated.  


“Please sit, Jack, Shadow won’t be returning anytime soon.” Pitch waited for Jack to settle cross-legged in his throne, then cleared his throat. Jack noticed that streaks of frost were now imbedded in Pitch’s throne after his outburst. “They were nightmares, demons, shadows, spirits, anything and everything evil that this army I served had captured. They were malevolent creatures that tried to get into my head at every second, trying to make me free them. I resisted for the most part, blocking them out with thoughts of my little girl and wife, whose names are beyond my memory as well. But one day, a particularly crafty bastard, whom you just had the pleasure of meeting, got into my head long enough to discover my little girl and her voice, and used it against me,” at this point Pitch’s voice broke, a terrible sound to Jack’s ears, like the sound of a whip hitting flesh. He shifted uncomfortably, not knowing if he should comfort the Shadow King. But Pitch recovered quickly.  


He stood with a flourish, creating a scythe from shadow to hold in his white knuckles and smack on the ground in rage. “Those bastards! They called out to me with her voice! Her sweet voice and I ran like a puppy! I ran and I unlocked Shadow’s door, and they were free,” he stopped, standing in his own writhing shadow. “They infected me, Frost,” he whispered, then laughed maniacally.  


Jack stood from his cold throne and held his staff across his chest, expecting the King to burst in a fit of rage.  


_“Infected?” ___he whispered back when Pitch went silent.  


“They possessed me,” he said, whirling around with the scythe still in his fist, which Jack flinched at. “They took hold of my body and bled on my mind, turned my skin grey with evil and my eyes gold with power, they took hold of my soul and twisted it into this!” Pitch screamed, exploding shadows outwards with a flick of his wrist, blasting Jack backwards head over heels ten feet and plunging the cavern into blackness.  


Jack lifted himself up on his elbows and shook the fuzziness from his eyes, looking up to see where he was. He reached up and felt that his crown was still solidly in place. The blackness in the room was slowly fading, like his eyes were adjusting from a bright room. He stood and located his staff, then hobbled back over to the thrones.  


He had been prepared if Pitch came at him, but nothing could have prepared him for that. He looked down at his chest and saw little swirls of shadow dancing around on his cold skin.  


He wiped them away and stepped up on the platform.  


Pitch was sitting in his frost-streaked shadow-sand throne, playing with the blade end of his scythe. He was grinning like a madman.  


"The power," Pitch started, sighing and smiling wider. "I didn't think it would work this well," he whispered, grinning at Jack. The winterling couldn't argue with that though. Whatever ritual that was, which he was sure Pitch would explain later, made him feel like something out of a fairytale. A god. He banished that thing without breaking a sweat, and without even his staff in his hands.  


Pitch wasn't kidding around here.  


“Jesus,” Jack said, shaking his head and turning to sit in his throne. But stopped, touching the ice gently.  


Pitch’s explosion had crafted Jack’s simple throne into a work of art, shadow streaks branching off sharply in the ice to create intricate patterns that exited out the back, like a shadow wind had blasted the throne.  


“Pretty,” Jack whispered, smiling and settling comfortably into the throne, liking the way each of them had added something to the other’s.  


“Yes, it is,” Pitch whispered, and Jack looked up to lock eyes with Pitch, to which Jack flicked his eyes away quickly, scraping his fingernail on the ice.  


“What goes together better then cold and dark?” Jack whispered, looking at the shadows all around him.  


Pitch grunted and the winterling could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile on the grey-faced Nightmare King.


	4. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch and Jack are testing the limits of their new found power.

“So, now what?” Jack asked, smiling to himself and snuggling deeper into his throne.  


“You like that question don’t you, Frost?” Pitch asked, standing from his throne to look at Jack.  


“I guess so, I just don’t know what to do,” Jack whispered, leaning over to his side in the throne. He heard a clank beside him and looked down, to see his golden tooth container from Pitch.  


“I forgot all about that,” he heard Pitch laugh, walking closer to the winterling.  


Jack looked up at him.  


“Should I open it?”  


“Do you want to?”  


Jack paused, fingering the detail of his face on the end of the cylinder. Did he want to? Did he care anymore?  


With Pitch, he didn’t feel pressured to be something, just act on his own instincts; he liked that. Would knowing who he was before he was Jack Frost change his outlook? Did he want his outlook changed?  


He looked up at Pitch; calm, patient Pitch. Looking at him curiously.  


“Well?” he asked Jack, raising an eyebrow expectantly.  


“Get rid of it,” Jack whispered, handing it to Pitch. “I don’t care who I was before I was Jack Frost, this is who I am now.”  


“Are you sure?” Pitch asked, taking it from him.  


Jack nodded, and he watched as Pitch made the golden offender dissolve into black sand.  


“It’s rid of,” Pitch said, chuckling and turning away from Jack.  


Jack sat there, a little blank-eyed. He felt better, now he didn’t have the choice to see who he was; the person he was before this was dead.  


“Good,” he mumbled, smiling a wicked smile.  


“So, may as well settle this right off the go, would you like to have a room here? Or would you prefer to stay elsewhere?”  


Jack thought about that, what did he want do? Now what?  


Before he never really had a place to stay, simply hopped from tree to building to wherever he landed. He had never been a fan of sleeping because, well, he never had a nice place to sleep.  


“Where would I stay here?” Jack asked Pitch, looking down at his fingernails.  


“I have many rooms here that you could stay in, I think I know a good place,” Pitch said, walking away and motioning for Jack to follow him.  


The winter sprite noticed instantly that Pitch was taller now. Maybe only a few inches, but he could tell in the way Pitch carried himself. The Nightmare King was fucking powerful. And big.  


Jack stood cleared his throat, following close behind Pitch, with all the wild turns and upside down staircases in this particular hallway he wondered how he’d ever get used to this place.  


That thought made him smile.  


He actually got to settle down. _Finally ___! Never once had any of the other Guardians offered him a place to stay, and they all had their lairs, or whatever you would call them. Never had they concerned themselves with Jack or where he put himself at night, when he wasn’t terrorizing the locals with his snow and ice.  


He thought back to Jaime, never had the little boy even asked Jack where he lived. Did everyone just fucking think he lived in an igloo? Honestly. He sneered darkly and snapped his hand beside him, embedding a huge icicle into the limestone wall.  


He saw Pitch glance over his shoulder but the Nightmare King never said anything.  


Jack took the time with Pitch in front of him to admire how much sharper the King looked after the affair with the globe and crown, and Jaime.  


His black crown almost melded into his hair, and his skin was a smooth gray now, even his fingernails were smoother and longer, with a slight edge to them as well. The damn Boogeyman had claws. He snickered.  


_I need to look in a mirror ___. Jack thought, smiling to himself and reaching up to feel if he had fangs. He jerked his hand back down when he indeed, felt them.  


“Jesus,” Jack muttered, a little frightened.  


“With this much power, your appearance changes based on your mood, Frost,” Pitch chuckled. “That sigil grants you that power, which stems from my nightmares, my shadows, if you will,” he muttered, waving his hands around. Even Pitch didn’t know what to refer to his power as. “You will be able to control shadows to a degree. Where I grow more contrasted and taller with power, you will have to discover what happened to you in a moment.  


_Cool_. Jack thought, smiling and fingering his fang again. _I need a mirror now!_  


"Here we are,” Pitch suddenly said, stopping like a wall in front of smaller Jack, who had to sidestep to avoid running into his huge back.  


The winterling peeked around Pitch and his jaw dropped.  


In front of him was a large cavern, with a waterfall on the left and a massive skylight on the right, most of the cavern was filled with water, a lake almost, and Jack knew instantly what Pitch had in mind, before the King could say anything Jack sprinted forward and slid on his knees on the stone before he hit the water, with it lapping at his knees he rubbed his hands together then clapped them on the water.  


Ice shot out from Jacks palms and, laughing, he clambered to his feet and raced across the rest of the little lake, ice and blue lightning continuing to shoot from his feet and hands.  


When the floor was finally solid, Jack stepped back onto the warm stone and wiped his hands on his pants, nodding at his handiwork.  


Pitch was as silent as a shadow behind him, simply watching. So Jack decided to show off a little bit.  


Waving his hands together again he decided to see if he could indeed, access the shadows like Pitch said. Picturing it in his mind, he walked slowly across the ice-floor, holding his fingers out like he was drawing in the air. He heard a little shuffle to his side, Pitch probably moving to get a better angle.  


He smiled and once he had made a complete circuit around the edges of the pool he stopped in the center and slapped both hands on the ice. He opened his eyes and was definitely pleased.  


He had indeed laced his ice pond with writhing blackness, even managed to make the frozen waterfall look like it was still moving with some well-placed shadows. The shadows marked out a giant snowflake, a dark, wiggling affair that looked _evil __.  
_

_An evil snowflake, wonderful!_ Jack thought, hopping lithely back over beside Pitch, where he picked up his staff and perched carefully on top. He almost felt like a little kid showing their parents some artwork that they had done.  


_Looking for approval_.  


“Jack,” Pitch started, peeking over the pond and smiling. “It’s beautiful, good work, really,” He stopped to look at Jack, who was a little lower than eye-level on his staff now. “You really are talented. I’m surprised you came that naturally to shadow-bending,” Pitch said, sounding uncharacteristically sincere.  


Jack felt uncomfortable under the stare and hopped off his staff, kicking it over his shoulder and walking over the mosaic he created.  


“So do you think we could get some furniture in here for me?” Jack joked, “Or I mean I could just relax on a nice ice couch,” with that he snapped his staff beside him and a couch grew from the ice in a millisecond.  


Pitch chuckled darkly and snapped his fingers three times.  


Jack just stood there, a little bewildered that Pitch had just snapped at him.  


But he understood when shadow-men started pouring into the cavern with the most ornate furniture he had ever seen, deep rich blues and reds and blacks. Couches and tables and a desk, a huge mirror, thick dark tapestries to hang on the walls, and beautiful fur rugs; bears, tigers, lions, skunks, everything he could ever imagine.  


“Wow, Pitch,” Jack said, awed as the fearlings started setting everything up for him, covering the stone walls in heavy fabric and laying out the mirror below the skylight. He waved at his small ice couch and it melted back into the floor.  


Before he could say anything else they heard a commotion from the hallway, and Pitch barked something in Latin, darkness snapping all around him.  


Immediately after at least twenty shadows were juggling a massive bed into the room, it seemed to be too tall to fit through the door though, and after a few seconds of them struggling to fit it in, Pitch seemed to lose his patience.  


He backed Jack away with a hand and made a little motion with his fingers, and a massive chunk of stone above the door exploded outwards with a massive boom. Jack jumped nearly a foot and ducked behind Pitch as he expected stone to fall from the ceiling. But it was just dust, which Pitchs shadows swept away with another motion.  


The fearlings barely paused in bringing the bed in. The sat it over in front of the waterfall and draped the eight-posted monstrosity in heavy silk and furs. Dark silk was hung from each post, giving the bed a comfortably terrifying look.  


“Where did all of this even come from?” Jack asked, walking over to the bed among the fearlings and running his hand along the dark wood.  


“I would be what some humans call, a ‘packrat’ I suppose,” Pitch walked over to Jack with his hands behind his back, his feet clicking on the ice. “This bed belonged to a rather divine queen back in the day. . . I killed her solely for her bed,” he chuckled quietly, and Jack looked up at him.  


“It was worth it,” he said, running his hand along all the different kinds of fur, he didn’t even recognize some of them.  


_Extinct animals probably ___, Jack thought, smiling, fuck he loved it here already.  


Pitch chuckled and walked up behind Jack, putting his hands on the smaller male’s shoulder’s and bending to whisper in his ear.  


“It was _definitely ___worth it, Jackson,” Jack’s bare shoulders burned at the touch of the Nightmare King, his chest exploding in goosebumps that reached his toes. Pitch rubbed his thumbs over

Jack’s skin and when Jack looked down at Pitch’s perfect fingers he saw they were leaving purple bruises on his skin where they were touching.  


Blushing like a madman, ever the virgin, Jack stepped outside of Pitch’s reach and cleared his throat, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. He smiled back at Pitch who was leering at him with that predatory gleam in his gorgeous eyes.  


He advanced on Jack, hands once again laced behind his back, smiling pointy teeth. Jack backed up against one of the bedposts and clenched his fists.  


“Pitch-”  


“Shuush, Frost. I want to clarify something,” the Nightmare King whispered, looming over Jack and blocking out most of the light. Jack saw fearlings and nightmares jerking and twisting behind Pitch, whispering and hissing terrible nothings. Jack swallowed, frozen in fear. “If I want to touch you, little one,” he paused to lean down and run his dark hand along Jack’s ribcage, which he didn’t hate he had to admit. 

“I will fucking touch you.”  


Jack looked up at Pitch, fear no doubt radiating off of him, based on the drunken state of Pitch.  


“I don’t belong to you, Pitch,” Jack said, squaring his shoulders and pushing past the tall spectre.  


Pitch’s shadows caught Jack’s legs fast, freezing him on the spot. Nightmare horses and shadow-men twitched inches from his face, snarling with terrible fangs.  


“No, you don’t belong to just anyone, Jack,” Pitch whispered in his ear, a shadow brushing the hair away from Jack’s face; his stomach twisted. “But you will be wise to learn that I’m the more powerful of the two of us,” with that he inhaled deeply next to Jack’s face, smelling the fear on him.  


Jack was pissed.  


“What the _fuck ___? You can’t tell me what to do- ever! Do you understand why I left the Guardians to be with you? Power, Pitch. And now I have it, I’m not gonna be pushed around again!” Jack yelled, smashing shadow-men in the face with blue lightning crackling from his fists. He looked down and froze the shadows around his ankles then shattered them with a swift kick.  


Before he could take a step he felt Pitch’s hands on his shoulders again, and he was paralyzed.  


“You forget about a certain something, Jack Frost,” Pitch leaned in and licked Jack’s ear, to which Jack tried to whip around and punch the Nightmare King, but he couldn’t move.  


Pitch reached down and lifted Jack’s left hand up for them both to see, and ran his fingers over the sigil on the back of it, which reacted violently, spiking up to reach out to Pitch like it longed for him. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered into his ear. Letting go of Jack he walked around the front of the winter sprite. “You belong to a King.”  


Jack’s heart sank. What? He looked up at the Nightmare King with wide eyes. This couldn’t be, Pitch promised him equality, promised him that he would be standing side-by-side with the god of a man.  


“Relax,” Pitch chuckled, seeing the fear in Jack’s eyes. “For a King also belongs to you,” he said, releasing Jack from the shadows. Pitch’s sleeves automatically rolled back to reveal a similar mark to Jack’s on the Boogeyman’s left forearm, except this one was like ice shards in the Kings arm.  


Jack looked at it, incredulous.  


“Cool,” he whispered, reaching out to touch the mark. Pitch let him, only for a second though, as the shards slid around inside his arm, the shadows immediately swallowed the mark again.  


“ _Cool ___,” Pitch said, mocking Jack.  


Jack rubbed his arm where Pitch touched it. _I wonder_.  


He reached out as Pitch turned to leave, grabbing the Kings arm and twisting it back so that Pitch was forced to face him. He seemed to play along and looked at Jack expectantly, one eyebrow raised. Jack looked at where he was touching Pitch’s arm and saw that frost was leaking out onto the Boogeyman’s skin.  


“You have me, Frost, now what are you going to do with me?” Pitch whispered, his voice husky.  


Jack stood there, tongue-tied. He hadn’t thought ahead of this.  


_Shit ___.  


Before he could react his arm was wrenched off of Pitch’s and the Nightmare King had him pinned against the wall, his feet dangling below him. Pitch’s smiling face was inches from his own, and he kicked his legs in an attempt to break free.  


_SHIT ___!  


He tried to apologize to Pitch but the man’s forearm was pressed against his throat, holding him off the ground, and the other hand had Jack’s wrists tied above his head.  


This was the first time he had even seen Pitch use his own hands for something rather than have his shadows do it for him. It was terrifying.  


Helpless, Jack hung there, waiting for Pitch to whip him at a wall or worse.  


Grinning, Pitch removed the arm against Jacks throat and moved his hand to caress the winterlings torso. Jack snarled at him and tried to wiggle away.  


“I'm sorry! Now get the fuck off me, Pitch! I'll fuck you up!” Jack screamed, going to spit at the King.  


“Try,” Pitch whispered into his ear, running his hand further down to Jacks hip, slipping a few fingers underneath the waistband of his pants.  


He hated the way Pitch was so confident in himself, but damn was he sexy.  


Looming over him, making Jack helpless, he couldn’t help the growing bulge in his pants, but he was desperate for Pitch not to see it.  


_Try_? Jack repeated in his head. _Okay_.  


Pulling that ball of furious strength and power from his guts he inhaled sharply, ready to blast Pitch with a cone of icy hell.  


He went to exhale, and Pitch held up his hand, making the ice catch in Jack’s throat. A shadow was pushing halfway down the winterling’s throat, gagging him.  


“You don’t get it do you, Jack?” Pitch laughed, pushing the shadow deeper into Jack’s throat; his eyes were starting to water.  


_Shit ___.  


He heard Pitch inhale deeply, reveling no doubt in the fear radiating off Jack. At this point he reached down and fondled Jack’s already hard member, rubbing him through his pants.  


Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head, _Damn, that feels good ___.  


His body betrayed him as Pitch groaned at the sight Jack no doubt made at the moment, helpless with a shadow deep in his throat and Pitch’s hands all over him.  


The thought that he was arousing Pitch riled him up even more and he bucked his hips, not entirely meaning to, even sucking lightly on the shadow-rod in his mouth.  


Pitch was laughing at Jack, an evil cackle. With one last stroke along his hardness Pitch dropped him on the floor, banishing the shadow from Jack’s throat and stepping back as Jack gasped for air.  


“What-”  


Before Jack could ask what the hell happened Pitch kneeled down and grabbed him by the chin, and for a second Jack thought that the Boogeyman was going to kiss him, even closed his eyes, but he just tapped the winterling on the forehead.  


And Jack was unconscious.


	5. The Beginning

Pain. Oh god he was in pain. Jack went to open his eyes but shut them immediately after sunlight seared into his retinas.  


He was in a bed. He froze. Opening his eyes he saw that he was in his chambers, the ice still coating the floor. He squinted at the skylight and turned his back to it, throwing off a heavy blanket. He looked around quickly for Pitch but saw no one.  


“Ah,” he groaned, rolling over to sit up.  


He stood on weak knees and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was dressed in a black sweatshirt now.  


“What happened?” he asked the open air, stretching his neck.  


He remembered what Pitch had done to him; _molested_ him. Pitch was a maniac. He had expected some strange happenings but never expected Pitch to physically hurt him.  


_Did he actually hurt me?_   


No. Jack answered quickly, thinking about the shadow gag that Pitch had stuffed down his throat. In all honesty, he might have deserved that.  


He didn't entirely hate it. Pitch liked taking control, and Jack didn't mind ceding to him. He liked that Pitch was more powerful than him.  


He shook the thoughts out of his head and ran a hand through his hair.  


Looking around again he saw the monster of a mirror the fearlings had brought in for him and he walked over to it; he had never seen what allying with Pitch had really done to him.  


His grey crown was sitting on the dresser, and he grabbed it on his way by and sat it on his head, feeling a rush of energy, like it had missed him. He took a big lungful of air and sidestepped in front of the mirror.  


His jaw dropped at his reflection.  


His silver hair had darkened to almost black, with thick silver streaks in it, and his eyes had turned an even brighter blue, they were almost glowing. He noticed a small halo around his pupil too, it was yellow, just like Pitch’s eyes.  


He reached up, pulling his top lip back and saw that his incisors had shrunk a considerable amount, but thinking back to what Pitch said about his appearance changing along with his mood, he imagined they would grow with anger.  


Or something. He didn't know what the hell to expect.  


He ran his hand through his black hair and smiled, he liked it. His skin was different too, it was a light grey now, with a little blue tinge to it. Creepy.  


Still smiling, he admired his dark sweater, turning to the side a bit to look, liking the way it hugged him.  


“I look _dashing!_ ” he exclaimed in an accent akin to Pitch’s, laughing and doing a small spin.  


When he finished his spin and looked in the mirror again Pitch was behind him, smiling down at him in the mirror.  


The winter spirit whirled around and leaped backwards away from the Nightmare King.  


“Good morning,” Pitch said, sounded amused and admiring his tall slender self in the mirror for a moment before turning to the defensive looking Jack.  


“What the hell, Pitch?!” Jack yelled, blue-frost lightning crackling around his fists.  


The lightning startled him and he quickly lowered his hands away from his face.  


He looked around and saw that his staff was nowhere to be seen. “What happened?” he asked, ready to blow Pitch away if he moved an inch.  


“Whatever do you mean?” Pitch said lowly, smiling at Jack and looking smug.  


“You- you pinned me against a wall! You knocked me out!” Jack yelled, frustrated by his aloof approach. _You molested me!!_  


“Are you telling me you didn’t like that?” Pitch asked in an oh so silky voice, lifting his hands palm forward and walking towards Jack with small steps, who shifted backwards and raised his hands threateningly. 

“Are you telling me that your body was lying to me? That you didn’t like being touched by the King of Nightmares? By the _killer_ of Sandman?” Pitch lowered his voice, bending a little and reaching towards Jack with a long hand. Shadows snapped like whips all around him, fearlings and nightmares huffed and screamed just beyond his vision, and the room was growing darker.  


Jack looked up at Pitch, he looked like a villain through and through, and Jack was surprised at the chill that went down his spine. Was thoroughly shaken when the thought of Pitch on top of him flashed through his mind. This powerful monster that seemed so obsessed with Jack. The thought made him blush and his stomach fluttered.  


He was flattered.  


_What?!_   


Pitch kept advancing on him. It was almost black in the room now, all he could see was Pitch and the space between the two of them, the lightning from Jack’s hands providing the only light.  


“I killed a Guardian, Jack. I _ruined_ , Easter. Bunny will die within the year. And Tooth will die as well,” he paused seemingly for dramatic effect, and then raised an eyebrow. “Her fairies are dead,” at Jacks horrified expression he made a flourish with his hands, grinning. “What? You thought they’d live after that? Don’t kid yourself, snowflake.” Jack got his panties in a bunch at that. “I plan on killing all of them, with your help, we can do it,” he was standing in front of Jack now. He reached up to touch the sprites face and he flinched, moving backwards.  


He took a step away from Pitch, not out of his reach, he had learned his lesson there, but just to put distance between them.  


He didn’t know what to say to the Nightmare King, he enjoyed the thought of all of the Guardians dead, but didn’t want this to just be over with when they were done.  


He smiled up at him.  


“We should leave one alive,” Jack said, and at Pitch’s bewildered expression he held up his hands. “I want one to know what life is like to be invisible. But I don’t want the chance for them to gain power again.”  


Pitch stepped back, thinking.  


“I like that!” he exclaimed, startling Jack and a few nightmares around them. “For them to be eternally invisible and powerless, I’ll have to look into that,” he mused, grinning from ear to ear at Jack. “Full of idea’s, dear Jack. Which did you have in mind?”  


The boy smiled back, loving the idea of that as well. He thought quietly to himself, and knew the answer quickly, “Toothiana.”  


Pitch’s smile widened and Jack could see his teeth sharpen as he watched, “Perfect.”  


Jack’s grin widened as well, glad Pitch agreed with his decision, but faded as he remembered what he wanted to ask the Nightmare King.  


“Uhh. . . I wanted to ask you, what did that, ritual, I guess I’d call it, what exactly. . . did it do?” he asked sheepishly, feeling like he should know exactly after it happened.  


Pitch stepped back seeming a little caught off guard at the question. “It was a transfer of power, essentially. The crowns let both of us to access the other’s magic, and also give us a direct line to my power, which even I cannot fully access without,” Jack looked at him, surprised. “I’ve tried the ritual on my own and both times it failed, and burned me severely, but having another powerful conduit,” he motioned at Jack, “helped me control the flow of power.”  


“So this is the most powerful you’ve ever been?” Jack asked, genuinely curious.  


“More or less yes, once we begin what I have planned, my power will overcome what I was during the Dark Ages,” Pitch whispered, sinking into himself for a moment. The room lightened and Jack stepped back in front of the mirror, admiring his new appearance again and ignoring strange Pitch.  


 _I think I’m becoming a narcissist,_ Jack mused, smirking at his dark reflection. _Oh well._  


Pitch snapped out of whatever memory he had been running over and took Jack by the hair on the back of his neck, turning him and leaning down to plant his lips on Jacks.  


The winterling was shocked and tried but didn’t have time to move away before Pitch snaked his hand around the smaller male’s lower back and pulled him close.  


Pitch moved his lips expertly against Jacks, running his tongue along the boys upper lip and plunging deep into his mouth.  


Jack felt something deep and dark in his belly snap, and he felt his body respond viciously to Pitch. To this villain.  


The winterling pushed deeply into the kiss, and when Pitch’s shadows wrapped around his wrists, pulling them to hang on to the taller males neck, Jack used the leverage to lift himself up into Pitch, wrapping his legs around the Nightmare King like a vice. Pitch helped him up by grabbing his ass and pulling on his dark hair, growling inhumanly.  


Perched on Pitch’s chest, he started moving his hips against the Boogeyman, eliciting himself a long drawn-out moan from the man, who then turned them around and pinned Jack against the stone wall, reaching to pull Jacks shirt off and yank the sprites pants down below his ass, exposing everything to Pitch.  


Jack flinched at that, feeling a little vulnerable, especially when Pitch laughed hysterically as he moved to bite at Jack’s neck.  


“You have no idea, Frost,” Pitch groaned, his voice dark and rough. “No _fucking_ idea how long I’ve wanted you like this!” he snarled as he bit deep into Jacks neck, and the boy didn’t have time to think about that as he screamed and blood trickled down his neck. Panicked, Jack tried to get away, but his hands were tied tightly behind Pitch’s neck.  


He felt Pitch lick and suck at his neck then give a completely delighted laugh, grabbing Jack’s head, which was pulling away, and kissed him.  


Jack jerked back when he tasted blood on Pitch’s tongue, _his blood_ , trying desperately to get away from Pitch now, but stopped when he felt his mouth start to tingle, and Pitch looked him in the eyes, nodding and pulling on his own frost coated tongue, smiling.  


“Amazing!” he laughed again and dove back in to lick at the bloody neck more, to which Jack stared behind Pitch’s head, eyes wide, his fear pulsing away and his eyes rolled back in his head as he gripped Pitch’s crown. The feeling of the Nightmare King’s tongue was almost too much.  


He reveled in the fear that Pitch was injecting him with, knowing full well that Pitch wanted Jack to be afraid, wanted him to submit and cower before him. A ripple of pleasure shot through him as he pulled lightly on Pitch’s spiky crown, and he let Jack pull his head to the side, burying his face deeper in his cold neck.  


He ground his dick into Pitch’s abdomen, letting the King know how much he wanted him too. In return Pitch bit him again, pushing against the winterlings neck with his sharp teeth as he smacked Jack’s ass and pushed him harder against the wall. His hands snaked around Jack’s back and black talons ripped into his skin, tearing all the way down to his ass. Jack’s mouth opened in a silent scream and he shivered with pleasure as shadows tickled the new wounds.  


The sprite could hardly breathe with all Pitch’s weight on him now and it was making him delirious with pleasure.  


 _Who would've thought that Jack Frost would be into rough sex?_ Jack thought hysterically, trying to laugh but he couldn't get enough air.  


His eyes flicked open when he felt Pitch’s slick fingers at his ass, and he cried out when they –nail and all- stabbed into his entrance without so much as a warning. The pain turned into pleasure quickly though, even as Pitch added another finger immediately after, fucking Jack slowly with them.  


Jack moaned so loud he heard it echo and the Boogeyman laughed at a blushing Jack.  


“Enjoying me, Frost?” Pitch growled, an eyebrow raised, and didn't give the smaller man time to respond with _Fuck yes!_ as he suddenly repositioned Jack.  


And then it wasn't fingers at his ass anymore.  


Jack lifted his head up to look at Pitch, and in front of him he saw a monster. The Nightmare Kings eyes had gone completely black, his fangs were nearly an inch long and his cheekbones were sticking so far out Jack wanted to try and balance a glass on them.  


The tattoo’s on Pitch’s chest were moving around violently too, jerking and twisting.  


Pitch looked into his eyes and grinned a terribly sexy, evil grin, pushing his huge cock deep into Jack while maintaining eye contact.  


Jack screamed, eyes closing and head falling back as fear and pain pushed at the edge of his brain, and he heard Pitch’s inhuman noises as the fear no doubt assaulted his senses.  


The room plunged into blackness as Pitch fully sheathed himself into Jack, and the winterling, moaning so loud he was almost screaming, held on to the crown and hair as Pitch started thrusting none too gently. Frenzied, he lowered his head to Pitch’s and sank his own teeth into the Boogeyman’s long neck.  


He heard Pitch hiss in pain as Jack licked at what flowed out of the wound, loving the strange, metallic taste of Pitch. He was starting to feel lightheaded as tall dark and scary pushed against him harder and shifted so he could hit deeper in the small male.  


Jack screamed out, spraying whatever blood he had in his mouth as Pitch hit that special spot in him. He started to bounce along with Pitch's rhythm, to which Pitch seemed to love as he buried his head in Jack’s chest, licking at a small nipple.  


Jack heard fearlings and nightmares gather and saw their yellow eyes in the blackness, huffing and stamping as their master was in the throes of pleasure.  


Pitch kept slamming into that spot in Jack, and soon Jack felt himself dangerously close to coming all over the two of them. Pitch seemed to sense it and he felt his long hand reach to grab Jack’s dick. But it wasn’t to stroke it, he slipped something on it, a band around the base of it, and Jack knew instantly what it was.  


“Pitch-ah! Ple-please, no,” Jack begged, still bouncing on his huge cock. The winterling felt the coil in his lower stomach knot and churn as he was going to come, but since he couldn’t, it just kept going, sending wave after wave of pleasure at Jack, who was almost convulsing on Pitch, moaning when he had the breath and gasping when he didn’t. It felt so good it hurt, and he felt fear seep into his body.  


“Oh _god_ Frost, yes,” he heard Pitch moan, his breath hitching as he held Jack still and fucked him slower. More torture for the poor winter sprite.  


He could feel Pitch’s eyes on him, reveling in the control, obviously, and Jack would’ve cursed him if he wasn’t dangling over the edge of an orgasm. He tried to reach down and take the cockring off but found his hands stuck to Pitch’s crown.  


_How fitting._   


“Beg, Frost,” he heard Pitch whisper, chuckling into his ear and sending chills along the boy’s grey skin. “Beg me for it.”  


Jack blushed like he had never blushed before in his life.  


Pitch slowed his thrusts down, pulling out until just the tip was inside Jack then slowly pushing back in so that he could feel every inch of him.  


Jack moaned loudly at that, oh god he loved how Pitch was fucking him. Made him so helpless. He loved this game!  


Fighting back another loud moan he noticed that it was getting lighter in the cavern, and he saw Pitch looking at him down his nose, smiling. . . possessively.  


He looked directly in Pitch’s black eyes and licked his lips, “Please, Pitch, please let me co-!” his scream stopped him as Pitch slammed into his ass, lifting him up higher against the wall from the force.  


“Louder!” he yelled at Jack, a full blown grin now on his face as he started thrusting shallowly into him.  


“Please!” Jack yelled, feeling the coil tighten up again even further and he couldn’t take it anymore.  


_This is it, I’m going to die. This is gonna to kill me._   


Pitch fucked him relentlessly when he saw Jack’s eyes roll back, grabbing the moaning ex-Guardian by the throat and choking him. He then reached down and grabbed Jack’s purple cock, stroking it to make Jack an even bigger mess.  


Jack tried to scream past Pitch’s hand but only got a small gurgle out. The ice lord’s legs were starting to give out on him in the pain and pleasure and he felt shadows tickle around him and hold his weight up. 

His eyes rolled further back in his head and he was trying to scream Pitch’s name, trying to scream anything, begging for release.  


Suddenly the hand on his throat released, “PLEASE! Pitch! Oh GOD!” he screamed automatically, jerking around violently on Pitch’s cock, who was smiling evilly at the winterling, watching him squirm.  


“Hmm?” was all Pitch had to say, a chuckle following his words.  


 _How is he this coherent?_ Jack thought, a little insulted that he wasn't having as much of an effect on Pitch as he thought.  


He screwed his eyes shut and kept bucking into Pitch, begging and pleading for everything he was worth.  


He felt the Nightmare King’s thrust quicken, and he felt Pitch grab his head, “Who do you belong to?”  


“You! I belong to you! Oh god please!” he screamed without hesitation, and the band was off.  


Pitch grabbed his waist and fucked him so hard Jack thought he was going to break his spine, he held on for dear life as he felt a glorious orgasm approach at Pitch’s angry thrusts.  


Screaming, Jack barely heard Pitch curse under his breath, but he felt as his thrusts lost all rhythm, and knew he was about to come.  


Finding a shard of himself amongst the mess he leaned forward to whisper in Pitch’s ear, “Fuck yeah, Pitch, come deep in my ass,” and at Pitch’s strangled cry, Jack was pinned against the wall by the neck.  


 _Ha!_ Jack yelled in his head, triumphant at making Pitch yell out.  


He felt Pitch fill him up, his thrusts erratic, and Jack yelled out, the eroticism of it all too much for him, and he came hard. Convulsing against the wall and shooting his load right onto Pitch’s bare chest.  


He leaned his head back as he felt Pitch finish, pulling out with a squelch and lifting Jack up by the armpits to set him over on the bed, limp.  


Jack flopped backwards and groaned.  


“Holy shit, Pitch,” he swore, turning his head to look at the man who just had his way with him.  


 _What just happened?_ Jack shook his head and looked down at his body, bruised, bleeding and red. He felt like he wouldn’t be able to walk for a long while.  


He reached up and felt the swollen holes in his neck from Pitch, and used part of the bed sheet to stop it from bleeding any further. He wiped the blood from his mouth as well, a little disgusted with himself.  


Pitch was standing in front of the mirror, looking completely unphased, feeling his neck where Jack had bit him. He turned and glanced at Jack.  


“Matching bite marks, _how cute_ ," Pitch said, a mocking smile on his face. "I’ve wanted you bleeding and naked in front of me like that for a long while Jack,” he chuckled and wiped at his chest with some sort of shadow-cloth.  


“How long?” he asked, still drunk from whatever just took hold over him.  


“A couple of decades,” Pitch said offhandedly, pulling shadows back over his chest. Before Jack could ask more about how long Pitch had been watching him, he bent and heaved something at him.  


The blade end of a massive scythe buried itself into the bedside table beside the cowering winterling, and the terrified Jack peeked over at it, recognizing the wood on it from his staff.  


Pitch laughed loudly at Jack's cowering, “I made a little modification for you. I figured it should look a little more menacing than a walking stick,” he said, chuckling. He shot the Boogeyman a glare and stood with some difficulty.  


He didn’t know how he felt about Pitch manipulating his staff.  


Jack ripped the thing out of the bedside table and took comfort that the wood still responded to him, frost running down the cracks. The blade also responded, turning black with sharp designs of frost over the surface.  


Jack stood, walking with his new staff over to his sweater on the floor beside Pitch, he pulled it over his head and looked to the King, now quite enjoying that nickname for Pitch. He was still looking in the mirror, straightening his shadow-clothes and simply admiring his dark self.  


Jack smiled an evil smile and walked to stand beside Pitch; they made a good pair.  


Pitch threw an arm over Jack’s shoulder, tossing a smile his way, then moving to grab the little one’s hand, Jack took it and looked up expectantly.  


“Are you ready to kill a Guardian, my former Guardian?” Pitch asked, eyes brightening and shadows churning.  


Jack looked at his reflection and watched his own features darken as well, images of shadows and lightning filled his head, and he moved closer to Pitch.  


_I love this place._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and nice comments, its super motivating :)  
> Much love <3  
> Hopefully I did well with that smut scene, tried to make it nice and long for you's :3


	6. Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Pitch set out for the Guardian's heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay on this chapter, I've been dealing with too many personal problems to count, but hopefully this makes up for the wait! Love you all and thank you for reading :* <3

“Ready, Jack?”  


The Nightmare King lazily rolled his eyes over to look at the boy, who was adjusting his clothes and applying soot to his eyelids.  


Pitch sighed, “I could have just stolen you makeup from the humans. . . I’m not _that_ unapproachable.” A pause. “Am I?” Another pause. “Hmm, I suppose I am,” he chuckled, mostly to himself. Or to the nightmares that surrounded him like a cloak constantly.  


Jack threw a look into the mirror at Pitch, bright eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to wear makeup, I’m using this because it seems. . . Ironic.” He huffed a laugh to himself and turned back to the mirror, smudging black around his eyes to give himself a hollowed look, and grinned at his reflection. He was clad in tight black pants and a black turtleneck, simple, nothing that could get in his way, and he ran his fingers through his dark hair, the silver shining in the light.  


“You look _dashing_ dear Jack,” Pitch said, mocking Jack earlier, even twirling his hand around in the air for added effect.  


Jack laughed loudly, a little warmth spreading to his belly at Pitch calling him ‘dear’ in his charming accent.  


The teenager didn't really know how he felt about earlier still. He felt it deep in his stomach though, one thing he knew for sure; he had feelings for Pitch. Not that he loved the man, but he felt something in his chest when he looked at the King.  


And he knew that Pitch felt something for him too, the way that he acted around Jack, possessive. He loved it, loved feeling wanted after being neglected for so damn long. But were those feelings clouding his judgement? Or did he really feel something towards this dark-skinned maniac?  


He shook his head, thoughts whirling around behind his eyes.  


Was he just a plaything for Pitch?  


No. It didn't feel like that anyways.  


Pitch was probably as ecstatic for the companionship as he was. And Pitch was a hell of a lot older than him.  


He reached down and touched the mark on his hand; he knew there was something between them, but what if it was just a shared hatred for the Guardians? What happens after they’re all wiped out and it’s just him and the Nightmare King?  


_Too many questions._  


He looked at the man, his eyes raking up and down. He had broken out an old heavy, regal looking robe; black with gold stitching and silver swirls on his back, looking like smoke dancing up his long legs.  


Pitch noticed Jack looking at him and smiled at the smaller male. Jack blushed and looked away, embarrassed at being caught. He cleared his throat and walked towards the dresser where his crown was sitting on a red satin pillow.  


He picked it up and scowled at it, he hated how plain it was.  


A thought then came to him.  


_Duh._  


Frowning with the concentration it took, he started lacing it with his magic, spiking upwards from the boring band to create three, two inch long prongs that linked together and twinkled in the light. Then he suddenly knew how to seal the magic so that the ice wouldn't melt. He felt the weaves of magic rush out of his fingertips before he even knew how to do it. The ice took on a slight purple shimmer where the light hit it.  


He put it on, pleased with himself. The feel of the weight of it on his head and the familiar rush of energy down his body comforted him. He looked at Pitch and smiled; who smiled back at his crown.  


“Ready,” he said, excitement and nervousness racing through his stomach as he grabbed his scythe from the wall. “Where are we heading first?”  


“You’ll see, little one.”  


Pitch offered him his hand and he wrapped his smaller around Pitch’s larger, and together they fell into the darkness. 

Jack held his breath this time, squeezing his eyes shut and telling himself to relax in his head, and before he knew it he was spit out on the ground, the world vacuuming back into reality.  


He only coughed a few times, straightening his sweater. A cold wind assaulted them from the left, and they were both knee deep in snow. It was night up here, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief at that.  


He looked up at Pitch, realization blooming in his eyes, he should have thought of it earlier, North was the only Guardian that was still at full power, and he had those portals he could zip around with. Of course he was Pitch’s next target. But Christmas was still months and months away.  


Pitch grabbed Jack’s hand and led him over a small hill, Jack reveling in the weather here, he loved the freezing wind tickling his hair and how his toes felt in the snow. He smiled as he looked around, but it quickly faded as they crested the hill and saw North’s palace perched on the edge of the mountain.  


Pitch looked down at Jack then, “Do you want to make an entrance, or go in quick and quiet?”  


Jack thought about it, they were really doing this. They were launching a full out assault on North’s palace. A grin swept across his face.  


“Let’s give him a show,” Jack growled, anger seeping in behind his eyes, he gripped his scythe tighter. He heard Pitch laugh and then the Nightmare King was mounted on a Nightmare, galloping through the air towards the palace.  


Jack’s laugh came from deep in his stomach and he launched himself into the air, whipping forward on the wind.  


Something blotted out the moon behind him and Jack whirled around, panicked. But when he saw what it was he laughed even harder.  


A tsunami of Nightmare’s, gleaming yellow and black in the too bright moonlight rushed across the ravine to North’s palace.  


Jack turned back around and hurried to catch up to Pitch, who had stopped a ways back from the palace, floating on a cloud of black shadows now. Jack landed beside him and without waiting for hearing what Pitch had planned launched icicle after icicle into various windows in the palace. His heart smiled as he heard the glass smash and several screams as the icicles found their marks in yeti’s hide.  


They looked at each other as they heard alarm bells going off and saw the northern lights begin pouring from the top of the building.  


“They’re all gonna be in one place, Pitch,” Jack whispered, excitement twinkling inside him as he bounced on the huge sandy cloud beneath them.  


Pitch smirked and nodded curtly in response, slapping his hands together with a thunderous boom, and Jack grinned as he watched the wave behind them ripple, like it was about to spill from Pitch’s control and swallow them whole. Right on queue, they saw Tooth’s signature flicker of color in the night sky, and Jack reached a hand up to stop Pitch before he killed her right then and there.  


“We’re keeping her, remember?” Jack whispered, and he watched as annoyance and then amusement flicked across the Nightmare King’s face.  


A nightmare was beside Pitch in a second, a massive affair that could swallow Jack whole. Pitch whispered something to it and it neigh-screamed and flitted off towards Tooth.  


He watched it go, and screamed as Pitch suddenly slammed him onto the cloud, flat on his stomach, with surprising ease, he might add. But he understood when he heard something whiz right past his ear. He jumped up immediately and looked to Pitch to say thank you, but the King was looking somewhere else.  


Jack followed his gaze and saw that he was peering at an outline on the top of North’s palace. He watched in fascination as Pitch materialized a massive spear out of shadow-sand and wound back to throw the thing.  


The winterling took a step back and watched Pitch’s muscles in his neck and shoulders bulge; and like a spring he threw it and it exploded in black exactly where the figure was standing.  


Curiosity got the best of Jack and he flew over to where it hit, expecting a mutilated body; not expecting a crack on the back of his head.  


His vision swam as he faceplanted in the cold snow, coughing and sputtering and throwing himself away from the area. He rolled to his feet, vision still spotted with black, and leaned heavily on his scythe, only half feigning catching his breath.  


It had started to snow heavily, and with Jack kicking up all the puff it was hard to see anything.  


He heard a footstep to his left and kicked the bottom of the wooden staff, flipping it over his head and sweeping it out in that general direction. He felt it slap into someone’s legs and Jack grinned, snarling as he front-flipped and smashed his bare feet into a torso. He landed on his feet and crouched.  


He heard an ‘oof’ and then a big thump as someone hit the ground. Then grumbling in a Russian accent.  


The snow cleared then, the blizzard already dying in the extreme weather. North was just starting to stand when Jack blitzed through the three foot deep snow at him. He moved with incredible speed and had his scythe at the fat throat in a second.  


“Jack?” North asked, disbelief painting his face.  


He just smiled darkly and pushed his scythe harder against the Guardian’s throat.  


“Jack what are you doing?” he quickly put his hands up beside his head and Jack almost misinterpreted the movement and lopped the bastard’s head off.  


“What I should have done a long time ago,” he snarled, lowering his stance.  


“You are with Pitch now?” he shook his head despite the blade at his throat. “Jack, whatever Pitch said to you, he is lying. He is the Nightmare King! Are you that naïve to think that he actually cares about you?! That he is not just using you?”  


“Shut up!” Jack roared, flexing his arms to slice North’s head right off his shoulders. Before he could though the words sank their claws into his brain, and it cost him a precious second.  


North flung himself backwards, gashing his chest on the razor edge of the scythe but avoiding losing his head. He pulled his swords out of the scabbards on his belt and charged back at Jack.  


The winter sprite rammed his scythe into the hard ground and, leaving it standing there, quickly created two reinforced ice swords, thin and sharp. North slapped his swords at Jack’s, thinking he could simply smash through what looked fragile.  


His blade hit hard against the ice, and Jack jerked when he pulled back; there was a chunk missing out of the steel. Disbelief then anger flashed over North's face and he roared as he threw himself at Jack.  


Sparks and metal chips went flying as Jack expertly parried, dodged, riposted, and attacked with his superb blade. He had never even held a sword in his life, and here he was, looking like a dancer in the snow. His reaction time was so quick at first he felt like North was just a slow fighter, but the exertion on his face proved otherwise.  


Finally after Jack had gotten the hand of his new reflexes, he parried a particularly desperate blow, and threw one sword over the Guardian’s head, for a split second North's eyes followed the blade, and Jack went for his neck.  


North reacted admirably, flinching backwards, and the blade was about to miss when a burst of shadow erupted from the blade’s handle, rushing down the length to extend it by a full foot. Pitch's mark on his hand burned ferociously.  


Blood erupted from North’s throat, his head falling backwards grotesquely. The sword had severed everything but some flesh that was holding on. Blood sprayed Jack from head to toe, and instead of feeling disgusted, he felt like he was being baptized.  


He smiled white fangs at North as the world no doubt faded to black.  


When the body fell into the red snow around him, Jack walked forward and subconsciously shortened his sword into a dirk, then bent beside him. Blood dripped from him almost delicately into the white snow.  


A quick cut and he was off to see what Pitch had been up to in the meantime. Scythe in hand, he felt like Death himself.  


As soon as he flew over the ledge he laughed and spun in the air, falling for a split second then catching himself and flying up. He sensed something to his right as he ascended, looking for Pitch.  


He flung himself to the side, fearing another attack. But instead he saw Pitch standing on his cloud, waving his hands like he was conducting a symphony.  


Jack flew to him and realized in fact, he was. Nightmare’s and fearlings whipped in and out of buildings in the palace, pulling yeti’s and elves and stone-egg-men out of the windows and dropping them, some screaming, into the abyss.  


Landing beside Pitch, Jack finally had a chance to catch his breath, and he threw something at Pitch’s feet.  


The Nightmare King faltered for a moment as he looked at what it was, then stopped his hands and bent to pick it up. He looked at the blood-covered Jack, elation lighting up his dark features, and he smiled into North’s dead face.  


He moved his free hand to his side and something like a spear formed in it. Jack almost cheered as Pitch impaled the severed head on it, wrapping it in shadows to keep it in place and lofting it above his head. A Nightmare appeared and transformed into a gargoyle, holding it above the King's perfect hair.  


A wail erupted behind them; an army’s battle cry, so loud Jack had to cover his ears. The army was delighted with Jack’s triumph. He felt like he was being patted on the back by the Devil.  


The wail shattered whatever windows were still intact in the palace, and Jack was beginning to wonder if Bunny and Tooth had fled the scene.  


He looked up at Pitch, apparently the Nightmare King was having the same nagging thought.  


Stepping forward, and getting a few drops of blood on his hair from the trophy above, Pitch extended both of his arms and the Nightmare’s disappeared from inside the palace. Everything went eerily quiet.  


“GUARDIAN’S!” Pitch bellowed, his voice redoubled like he was speaking into a cone. “Come play!” The Nightmare King laughed and threw his hands up; henchmen sprung up around him again, most with no tangible form, just jerking around their master as his anger hit them. Some of them made gurgling noises that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Jack smiled at them.  


With a little cry from inside the castle as no doubt the remaining were seeing their friends head on a pike, yeti’s began flinging whatever they could at the duo; tables, toys, lamps, even cookies.  


But then Pitch waved his hand. It stopped.  


“Get out here before I come in there,” Pitch said, his voice dangerously low now.  


From a window high up in the castle, a small form appeared, colorful and screaming in defiance once it saw them. Then it was swallowed by darkness.  


The massive Nightmare rode diligently back to Pitch’s side, Tooth effectively caged in between its black ribs. Her face told Jack she was screaming for help, and she was pounding on the ribs with her fists, but he heard nothing.  


He looked away and saw Bunny in the same window, breathless, his face a picture of grief.  


“Now he’ll beg,” Pitch whispered to Jack, his voice dripping with humor.  


Jack went into a fit of laughter as he heard Bunny screaming for them to stop and let her go.  


“You don’t have to yell!” Jack yelled at him, shadow-porting from Pitch’s side to reappear right beside Bunny. “We’re right here!” he said, throwing a cold blast at the kangaroo’s head.  


Bunny jumped out of his skin as he whirled around, boomerang in each hand as he stared at Jack. The blood was starting to freeze now, turning brown, but thankfully the blood on his skin was still a brilliant bright red. Bodies of a dozen yeti’s littered the floor.  


_Did Pitch seriously kill every yeti in here with a wave of his hands?_  


Yes, he knew he did.  


“What have you done?” Bunny whispered, Jack noticed with a smirk that he wasn't referred to as ‘mate’. Good, he fucking hated that.  


Jack formed a punch dagger with ice on his knuckles and felt the darkness of Pitch’s power, his power, stir in his stomach. He saw Pitch smiling outside the window, watching.  


He lunged at Bunny, who was about to ask him something, but he was blocked by wood. The thud sounded through the room as Jack tried different angles, created different weapons, changed their length last minute like before, launched himself off furniture, darted around the room to get to his back.  


But Bunny was too good. Jack was getting desperate, he wanted to deliver Bunny’s head to Pitch as well, or would Pitch be mad for killing both Guardians? Did he want a piece of the action?  


_Shit._  


He didn't know. He wasn't coming in, that was for sure.  


Before he could decide, Bunny slashed mightily with daggers he got from somewhere and was about to hit his target on Jack’s midsection; then Jack was falling.  


He landed a few feet back from Bunny on the wooden floor, blinking, and Pitch was now standing nearly eight feet tall between him and the kangaroo.  


“What is it Koz? You thinking I couldn't beat you in a fair fight too? Ya cunt!” Bunny yelled, taunting Pitch with his blades. Jack almost got up to help when instead shadows wrapped around his arms and legs and moved him to the side of the huge room.  


“ _Koz?_ ” Jack asked himself, flinging Pitch’s shadow’s off himself and opting to crouch on the edge of a bookshelf. Clearly he was meant to watch, not intervene. He rubbed blood-sticky hands against his staff in anticipation.  


“There’s no such thing as a fair fight,” Pitch said, clasping his hands behind his back and walking forward. Jack looked at Bunny and saw fear flash across his face, then it was replaced by anger, and the Guardian charged at Pitch; and went right through him.  


He stumbled out the other side, eyes wide and darting around, looking for the shadow he had just ran through.  


Jack looked around too, squinting at shadows he could see clearly, interested to see where his master would pop up.  


_My Master?_ Jack thought, stopped by his own inner admission. He did think of Pitch as his master, not quite his equal. He knew better than to think he was stronger than Pitch. To think he could ever overpower him. He rubbed at the emblem of their partnership.  


A yell from Bunny brought him back. Pitch was holding him up by his neck with one hand, black tendrils working their way slowly down the Nightmare King’s arm towards his furry face. Bunny screamed and screamed past the hand on his throat for all he was worth, the fear making Nightmares and fearlings gather around restlessly, wanting a piece for themselves.  


But Jack could tell, this prize was the King’s.  


Jack was even becoming intoxicated by it, the fear. It hung thick in the air, like a pleasant smell, reminded him of winning a snowball fight, or riding the wind in a typhoon. Just good times.  


He inhaled deeply, his pupils dilating as he drank it in.  


_Intoxicating_  


The shadows at some point had turned circular and long, they now reared up in Bunny’s face, terrible fangs dripping with whatever that was.  


Fear assaulted Jack’s senses, making him drunk, and he dropped off the bookcase, wandering over to where the two were standing. Pitch stopped when he saw the state of Jack, and simply held his position, doing something that made Bunny scream harder. Pitch smiled dangerously at Jack.  


The sprite staggered into the Guardian’s field of view, all darkness and blood, and reached out to put his hand on the fuzzy forehead.  


Pitch lowered him to the ground a bit so Jack could reach him, and the winterling made short ice-shadow stilts for himself so he wasn't straining.  


He rose up to eye-level with the Guardian and finally touched his sweaty brow.  


Pleasure.  


It assaulted him in waves, and he felt his head fall back, his vision spotted with black. His lifted his head again and Pitch was right there, pressing his mouth against Jack’s and wrapping his arms around his thin waist. The Nightmare King ground himself against Jack and the winterling almost cried out it felt so good.  


He was drunk on fear and Pitch was taking full advantage of it. He pressed his tongue into the older man’s mouth, earning a loud growl. Pitch pushed his head aside and bit at Jack’s neck, licking at the blood, he moaned loudly and opened his eyes to lock them with Bunny.  


He smirked and put his hands on Pitch’s shoulders, pulling himself up and wrapping his legs around the bigger mans waist, just like he did when they fucked before.  


Pitch noticed and created a wall of shadow behind Jack that he pressed him against. Jack did cry out this time, clawing at Pitch’s back and keeping eye contact with Bunny; who was still on the verge of choking to death.  


Pitch’s shadows were doing all the work now, keeping him on the precipice of death to keep the fear flooding into the two of them. Turning them both into a frenzied mess.  


Pitch groaned again and started moving his hands to Jack’s pants, pulling on his dick none too lightly, he arched into the touch, moaning encouragement and moving his own hands downwards.  


Bunny was looking at him in disbelief.  


Probably thinking that there was no way they were going to fuck while he was on the verge of dying by this man’s hands. Bunny didn't think he was that evil.  


But ooh Pitch’s hands were doing wonders. He bucked again and almost came as his hands came down to wrap around Pitch. The larger man breathed heavily out of his mouth and moaned Jack’s name. As lost as the winterling.  


Jack couldn't wait. He lifted himself a bit and pulled his black tights below his ass, yanking Pitch out of his robe and positioning himself over him.  


He didn't lower himself down, didn't prod at his own opening, he slammed down on Pitch for all he was worth.  


He screamed, and so did Pitch, a strangled sound, who had to brace himself against the shadow wall. Bunny screamed as well, out of fear and disgust no doubt, as Jack’s face lit up with pleasure as Pitch slid himself out of Jack’s ass and plowed back in.  


The fear was still flowing over them in waves, but Jack somehow noticed it was different, even in the throes of sex.  


Bunny’s breathing was ragged, but Jack noticed the noose Pitch had put there was loose now, Bunny was forgotten in the face of Jack fucking him. By all front’s, Bunny was enjoying the show, but was disgusted and so terrified that the two would notice. And scared that he would die tonight. And scared that he would die by Jack’s hands. And scared that Pitch would hurt Jack. And scared for Tooth. And scared for what comes after he died.  


The fears assaulted Jack and his back arched, pleasure washing through him again at both the feel of Pitch inside him and Bunny’s insane amount of fears pummeling him. Pitch was breathing ragged versions of his name in his ear, and Jack grinned at Bunny as he pushed himself up and off of Pitch’s cock.  


Pitch aggressively protested and pinned Jack against the wall by his neck, squeezing too hard, but Jack quickly pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek in the international symbol for blowjob and Pitch happily released him.  


Jack turned so that Bunny could see the whole affair and Jack felt himself close to spraying Pitch’s nice cloak at this scenario.  


Bunny groaned at the sight before him, and that caught a dangerous scowl from Pitch. He waved a hand at the kangaroo and the shadows enveloped most of his body, poking and stabbing into him in places, but not his face. Fear radiated off him again, slamming into the two evil spirits and renewing their hunger.  


Jack instantly took all of Pitch down his throat, almost wanting Pitch to stuff shadows down his throat again, choking him while Pitch gave him some bullshit lesson about listening. About being obedient. He shivered.  


Pitch grunted and put his hands on either side of the black-haired winterling, shifting his crown on his head and fucking into his mouth quickly. Jack put his hands behind the Nightmare King’s hips and pushed, swirling his cold tongue around and around.  


Pitch’s pace increased.  


Jack felt no need to breathe, so he just let Pitch do his thing, letting his eyes wander to Bunny again, who had tears streaming down his face, but his mouth was open and he appeared to be drooling.  


Oooh Jack loved this. He loved being the center of attention so much.  


He slithered his hands down his chest to wrap around himself, but soon found shadow’s encircle his hands and hold them behind his back as another one pumped him.  


He moaned loudly around Pitch’s huge dick, and the King gasped. He convulsed hard, pushing as far into Jack’s throat as he could, his balls tickled the winterling's chin. Jack came at the same time, jerking into the shadow’s and moaning.  


Pitch pulled back and finished on his tongue, looking down at the winterling with lust still searing behind his eyes.  


Jack laughed and stood, swallowing Pitch’s offering happily and stretching on his tiptoes to lick a splotch of blood off the taller man’s neck. Pitch smirked down at him.  


They both turned to Bunny, Pitch lowered the shadows; and revealed an embarrassingly pink erection between his furry legs.  


Jack laughed outright and spun around, sweeping down to grab his scythe and swinging it towards Bunny’s neck, fully intending to behead him.  


Pitch’s hand stopped the swing, and he smiled at Jack.  


“Let’s keep him too, Jack,” he whispered, the way he said his name made Jack’s legs quiver. “I've always wanted to experiment with this one.”  


Jack nodded, happy to comply, and shot an icicle an inch from Bunny’s throbbing red dick. The rabbit screamed into the air and wiggled in his restraints. Jack laughed harder than he had most of the short night.  


Pitch made a motion with his hands and the Nightmare with Tooth inside flew through the window. It swallowed Bunny whole as well, and soon two bodies took up most of the space in the hollow horse.  


Jack smiled at Bunny’s boner and Tooth’s horrified expression, and watched with fascination as another of the kangaroo’s fears flashed before the winterling’s eyes.  


He was terrified of the thought that he wanted to fuck Tooth whether she wanted it or not.  


Pitch must have seen it too because he let out a delighted laugh.  


“Perfect!” he muttered, snapping his fingers. The horse fled into the shadow of a desk, no doubt heading back to the lair.  


Still laughing, Pitch rubbed his hands together and threw something glowing at the wooden floor. The room erupted in flames.  


Jack instinctively threw up a wall of ice between them and the fire, and Pitch seemed to do the same because it was twice as thick as Jack wanted.  


Pitch took his hand then, and the two of them were floating out the window into empty space.  


The cloud they were floating on spun them around and Jack laughed at the burning, broken spectacle before them. Pitch rubbed his hands together again and threw several other fireballs into the palace.  


It was a roaring fire in a few seconds.  


_He needs to teach me how to do that._  


Jack laughed and pretended to warm his hands in front of the blaze, Pitch chuckled low and deep, a genuine sound. It warmed Jack’s heart for the first time in a long time.  


Pitch smiled at him.  


“You,” he laughed again, sashaying over to Jack. “You’re exquisite!” he yelled, spinning the laughing winter sprite around in a circle. He stopped him and wiped some blood off Jack’s sweater, marveling at the brown color. “You’re everything I've hoped for and more!” he swept down and locked Jack in a searing kiss before he could reply, and the two were falling then, still locked together.  


They arrived in Pitch’s room, and when Pitch finally let him go he rubbed his thumbs on Jack’s cheeks, smiling warmly.  


The word ‘love’ popped into Jack’s mind.


	7. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch deals with one of the Guardians while Jack tries to figure out what makes the Nightmare King tick.

Jack smiled up at Pitch, leaning his face into the larger, grey hand and letting his eyes fall shut. He was almost expecting the King to lean down and give him a peck, but he dropped his hand and walked away after a second.  


Jack made a face, tapping his scythe on the stone a few times. Irritation slithered through him and he watched the King for a moment, then started following.  


What was it about Pitch that was so cold all the time? He seemed to have those kind of moments of tenderness for Jack, even though he’s only seen that, what, twice? He didn’t know Pitch, and he was stupid to try to pretend that he did. But Pitch felt something for him too, he knew it.  


He wasn’t delusional dammit.  


The man had almost literally thrown himself at Jack’s feet a few days ago – By the Moon, had it only been a few days? He begged Jack to join him, but now that he had and they’d completely obliterated the Guardians, would Pitch throw him aside? Nervousness racked his small frame, looking up at the huge man striding along before him; he wanted to think that Pitch was deeper than that. Why would he seal Jack with a sigil if he was just using him temporarily? He rubbed at the offending mark on his hand. Pitch had a mark from Jack on his arm. He shook his head. He felt like he should understand Pitch more now. Now that they were, what? What even were they? Bonded?  


His eyebrows pressed together in a frown. It made it sound like they were fucking married. And even if they were, why was Pitch being so indifferent to him sometimes?  


Was he just shy? Jack doubted it, shaking his head to himself. Pitch was many things but he wasn’t shy. The man carried himself like the god he proclaimed himself to be. And according to the definition he was. And so was Jack.  


Maybe Jack should start walking around all haughtily, like he owned the place. He doubted Pitch would approve. He’d have to try it then, later. He smiled at Pitch’s back, maybe that was the trick. He had to get The Nightmare King to loosen up a bit; he was a bit tense.  


He walked behind Pitch loyally, starting at his bloodied cloak swaying with every step, when he remembered. Pitch had a family; before. Maybe that was it, it had to be.  


It hurt Pitch to love after he had so much and lost it all. No, not hurt. _Scared._  


The realization of Pitch’s only fear surfacing nearly made him stumble. He was shocked.  


Jack steeled himself and squared his shoulders. He would show Pitch that he wasn’t going anywhere. Feeling brave in his revelation he walked a little faster and kept pace beside Pitch, whom he saw glance at him from the corner of his eye but said nothing. He did smirk though, all condescending glances and whatnot. Jack fumed beside him.  


But he smirked back and let his scythe smack a little louder on the stone as they entered the antechamber. Pitch either pretended not to hear or didn’t care.  


The thrones sat like a yin-yang beside each other, Jack’s white-blue ice throne stark against Pitch’s menacing black. The daylight streaming down through the ceiling would have barely been enough to see for Jack before, casting shadows every few feet as desired. But now, the light was almost too bright; it leaked into every tiny niche, under every sideways stairwell, behind every crooked corner, and Jack could see it all.  


He was still looking around in excitement when Pitch took a few more steps forward onto the bridge that spanned the chasm running perpendicular to their thrones. Jack followed and when Pitch turned and grinned, he turned and gasped.  


Onyx had managed to stuff the Guardians into the tiny birdcages above. Tooth was sitting with her back hunched, clearly uncomfortable. She was crying too. Pathetic.  


But Bunny was almost curled into a ball, arms holding his knees to his chest as all of his bulk became his curse in the cage.  


Jack also noticed a tiny ball of feathers a few cages over, completely still on the bottom. Baby Tooth probably.  


Tooth noticed them and wailed.  


“Please, Jack,” she sobbed, reaching her hand through the bars at him. “What did we do to deserve this?” her eyes begged him for mercy. Beside her, Bunny still hadn’t moved a muscle.  


He felt sick and looked away from her.  


He couldn’t say anything, even though he knew Pitch was waiting for him to reply, he couldn’t. Couldn’t admit that he had a soft spot for Tooth, that that’s why he wanted to save her, but he was just starting to realize that she would have been better off with her head on a spike.  


His facial expression was no doubt screaming ‘I’m sorry’ to her, he knew he needed to do something here.  


Pitch shoved him out of the way before he could. With practiced ease he created shadow-steps right up to Tooth. Jack’s chest tightened, and he walked up the steps beside the Nightmare King, widening them himself to make room.  


Tooth had pressed herself against the back of the cage, for all the good that did, she was only another few inches from Pitch. She started screaming and begging Jack for mercy as the King reached his long arm into the cage, index finger pointed at her.  


She tried to smack his arm away but her arm passed through his like the shadow he was. Pitch muttered something in another language and a black glob flung from his fingertips into Tooth’s gaping mouth. It silenced her.  


Effectively muted, Pitch seemed to concentrate, closing his eyes and again muttering away in a foreign language. The darkness around them huddled in closer, obscuring Jack’s view even. It blotted out the daylight behind them, and uneasiness lingered in the air; Bunny woke and started panicking. He could see Tooth clearly still, but the rest of the cavern was just black.  


Pitch was even started to fade away, though he imagined it was just out of habit for him. Or it had something to do with whatever spell he was casting.  


Jack’s ears started to ring; he was about to ask Pitch what the fuck he was doing but stopped when he felt something brush his arm. He turned quickly and saw yellow eyes everywhere around them, bobbing on top of semi-human grey-black blobs. They were everywhere, but they weren’t Nightmare’s.  


He heard Bunny scream and curse at the nothings as they swam around him, slapping the bars with hands made of nothing.  


They were Pitch’s fearlings, all of them. He didn’t know much about them, he had never asked, thinking them pretty much the same as a Nightmare. But he could tell now. Looking into the eyes of the one behind him, it looked back at him with malice, but Jack saw a blob a few inches below its eyes tremble.  


It was crying, terrified. He looked over to another, which came closer when Jack locked eyes with the thing. This one was laughing. Another was scowling.  


Nightmare’s expressed next to no human emotion, but these fearlings, that seemed to be all they were made out of. Where a Nightmare was a child’s dream, a fearling was a child’s spirit.  


He smiled as he looked at the blacker-blackness and yellow eyes that marked the creature. He reached a hand up to touch it and it shrieked, scaring him half to death.  


He put a hand on his chest and looked to Pitch to apologize for interrupting whatever he was doing, but more screams from the fearlings around him cut him off. They were all being sucked into one spot.  


A small globe had appeared beside Tooth, turning and churning as more and more fearlings were sucked into the ball. Fascinated, Jack looked at the globe then back to Pitch, who had finally finished chanting.  


Tooth looked at him too, eyes huge and her mouth still stuck together with that black goo. Pitch leaned forward and tapped her on the forehead, and the goo turned to liquid, rushing out of her mouth. She coughed and spat, wiping her mouth on her feathers.  


“I can see their faces in yours you know,” she whispered, Pitch went completely still. His stony face turned to her, and he lifted her chin with a tendril of shadow. He just stared at her, tilting his head to the right, completely silent. “A wife and a little girl, right?” Gods her voice sounded so tiny. Pitch was goddamn terrifying in his silence. “If you let us go, I’ll tell you their names. I can find their memor-”  


Pitch smashed her face off the iron bars of the cage, knocking her out immediately. Jack had to consciously tell himself to shut his mouth. Bunny screamed at Pitch, calling him every vague Australian curse word he could think of. Pitch knocked him out with a wave of his hand; a shadow hammer drove into his face.  


He didn’t look to Jack for comfort at the news, his face wavered for a moment though and Jack was about to wrap an arm around the huge man’s waist and hug him, when Pitch just shrugged and reached forward to grab the orb.  


It jerked around weirdly where he touched it, extending beyond the circle, and then sucking back in; they were trying to escape.  


The Nightmare King lifted Tooth by grabbing her face, his sharp nails digging into her alabaster skin. Holding her, he squeezed her cheeks together so that her mouth opened slightly. He mumbled another few something’s in Latin, sounded like Latin anyways.  


Then he brought the orb up to Tooth’s lips; and pushed. At first he thought that it would be too big to fit, but shadow’s stretched her mouth open and it popped in. Shadow’s covered the outside of her mouth, sealing it, then her jaw abruptly shut.  


_Had it popped? What the hell is going on?_  


He looked up to Pitch for an explanation, though he doubted he would get one.  


“The last time I tried this was with a very emotional leprechaun, and it failed miserably.”  


_Well, there’s my explanation._  


Like it clarified anything for him, other than where Lanny had disappeared to over thirty years ago now. He had been Jack’s friend. Although all they did was indulge on whiskey and beer they stole from the humans. It did next to nothing to Lanny but Jack had been so blitzed he’d caused two massive hurricanes from blowing a blizzard down over Brazil. It had killed over four hundred people.  


_Oops._  


“Okay,” was all Jack said. He was distracted now, trying to figure out if he should be upset with Pitch or what. Might as well dig deeper to see what ‘this’ was. “What- uh, what’s happening?” he asked, cringing, he sounded like he had no fucking clue. He didn’t, but he didn’t want to sound like that in front of Pitch.  


The Nightmare King cleared his throat as he stepped back from the cage, Jack followed suit. Light was beginning to flood back into the room and Bunny shriek-cried at the black-gooey-bloody-unconscious mess Tooth was now.  


Her bright feathers were stained with the blood leaking from a cut on her scalp and her mouth was still sealed with gooey looking shadows.  


“I love my fearlings dearly,” Pitch started, smiling as a shadow flickered over him. “They’re wonderful for terrorizing and drawing out Nightmare’s. But they’re ethereal. No tangibility. I want something _like_ a Nightmare, but without the senselessness. So I want to use Tooth to harbor some of them, to see if they’ll become one being in a corporeal body. You see?” Pitch looked at him expectantly. Jack nodded.  


But of course he didn’t see.  


_Too many big words._  


“You wanna ‘see what happens’?” Jack whispered, not entirely meaning for Pitch to hear him.  


“Yes,” he replied with a grin, motioning back to Tooth, who had started spasming, her eyes opened only to roll back into her head.  


“What the bloody hell have you done to her you sick bastard!?” Bunny asked, his eyes as big as Jacks.  


“Thank you!” Pitch grinned, taking the compliment with a deep bow.  


Tooth’s skin was starting to blacken and smoke, like someone was roasting her over a fire, and her feathers shed off to teeter-totter out of the cage to wink out below them. Jack watched, fascinated.  


What was she going to turn into?  


He stole a look at Pitch; and gaped.  


The man was radiating so much power it was leaking from him; it bled golden out of his eyes, sunk his cheekbones deeper, turned his hair animate like black flames above his head. His face was more like a mask, shadows ducking under gaunt features and his eyes glowing like marbles in his head.  


_‘The more powerful I get the more I can control my appearance.’_ He was fucking right about that. Though Jack thought right now was one time he was seeing Pitch _not_ controlling his appearance.  


_Scary._  


Jack looked back to Tooth, she had stopped jerking on the metal floor of her cage, and was simply shedding now. Green and pink and blue feathers clotted off in clumps now to reveal black scales, shiny and metallic. The skin on her hands and face lightened to pure white, and the golden cuffs there fell off and disappeared in a puff of ash. Her body shimmied into a new shape as the feathers fell, her breasts enlarging and waist shrinking until she looked like one of the women on those glossy magazines Jack sometimes peeked at. The black scales on her skin whooshed into a tight black dress, exposing long legs and impressive cleavage. Black spikes rose up out of her spine and her pink wings darkened. He heard a snap and squinted to see her wings fall completely off her back. Before they even fell a massive, wet rip sounded.  


Two huge black and red leathery wings whipped out, slicing _through_ the thick iron in the cage. Their razor edge lopped off chunks in the roof of the cage as she jerked and contorted weirdly. Jack watched as a man hypnotized. The feathers on her head were the last to fall, and from her head long golden curls tumbled from underneath them. Her lips swelled to twice their size and her cheekbones grew sharper, she even had ears now, though they were sharp and dotted with shadow-earrings.  


The winterling winced and wanted to look away when her eyes rolled back to the front of her head and she sat up. Her eyes were black; completely black with a pinpoint sliver of yellow down the center.  


She sat up quickly, crossing her legs in front of her, her much smaller frame fitting inside the tiny cage easily now. She looked at Pitch and smiled warmly, like he was a long-lost friend. She was beautiful and horrifying.  


“Father,” she whispered in the now deafening silence, bowing her head in respect, her voice was like the scratching of nails on stone, of a thousand thousand whispers in the night and an overlay of Tooth’s sing-song voice.  


Jack and Bunny both gasped at the sound. The winterling stumbled backwards and felt goosebumps race across his skin.  


“The fuck?” he asked the air, shock and awe painting his face in a twist.  


Pitch leaned forward and unlocked the cage; despite the wide gouges behind Tooth.  


Or whatever the fuck her name was. Her? No. It more like. Or they, there were more than three dozen fearlings swimming around in there.  


He heard Bunny retch off to the side of them, coughing through his disgust.  


Not-Tooth ducked through the small hole and wings dipped and pressed together as the creature emerged.  


“Perfect,” he heard Pitch whisper, and at the pang of jealousy he almost started yanking on his hair in confusion. He was gunna go insane.  


“The fuck is happening right now,” Jack muttered, his mind a muddle of mixed emotions. Tooth was dead, that was for sure.  


“Tooth is not dead,” Not-Tooth said, peering at Jack through those terrible yellow slits. “She’s here, and very much alive.”  


Not-Tooth sank into itself for a moment, and eyelids blinked. When they reopened they were Tooth’s beautiful violet orbs.  


“ _Jack!_ ” she screamed, abruptly Tooth.  


Then Not-Tooth blinked again and she was gone.  


Jack’s eyes were huge no doubt. Did he feel better or worse about that?  


He stood frozen on the stairs, Not-Tooth standing in between him and Pitch; who was staring at him disapprovingly.  


Emotions roiled through Jack, the fuck was he supposed to do here? What was this thing standing in front of him?  


Whatever it was, it was. . .shapely. And gorgeous. The black wings on its back almost complimented the tiny figure and –though Jack wasn't into it- the way its body looked like a scaly hourglass impressed Jack.  


It looked everything and nothing like Tooth at the same time.  


“You can call me Sophie if you wish, Jack,” it said, smirking at him. Pitch chuckled behind it. Jack breathed a laugh and raised a hand in defeat. It was a good joke.  


Jaime’s little sister’s name was Sophie.  


Bunny overheard the exchange and muttered, “I’ll fucking kill you.” Apparently he didn't like the joke.  


Everyone chose to ignore him.  


‘Sophie’ reached out and ran a perfectly manicured hand down Jack’s face, who didn't flinch away. His face tingled where the hand touched him. “She loved you, you know,” it smiled. “A large part of her broke when you decided not to save her.”  


Pitch stepped in then, either seeing the distraught look on Jack’s face or simply wanting to move this thing somewhere safer than on a staircase above Hell.  


Tooth loved him? She had barely said two words to him before all of this.  


Jack stood there as Pitch took Not-Tooth’s hand and walked down the stairs to the bridge.  


“Jack, come please,” Pitch said. He had let go of the seductresses hand and was extending his opposite to Jack. Damn him, he still felt jealousy towards the little thing beside Pitch.  


He walked a few steps down and paused, looking at the thing again. It was blank, hands at its perfectly curved sides, but its face was staring into nothing. It looked like someone hit the power button on her.  


It.  


Dammit.  


Pitch glanced back to her and she reanimated, smiling pleasantly at him.  


The Nightmare King sighed a little and looked at Jack again.  


“She’s a siren, Jack. Do you know what that is?” At Jack’s head shake, he sighed again. “She uses her looks as a weapon. This is the body the fearlings were given and this is what they chose,” he stopped and smirked at Jack. “Don’t be jealous, dear, she’s a tool, that’s all,” Pitch chuckled, taking Jack’s hand and pulling him off the stairs.  


Jack reared to life and blushed crimson, smacking at Pitch’s hand, though he felt triumphant over ‘Sophie’ for Pitch showing him affection.  


_This is so fucked up._  


Sophie looked at Jack and smiled with malice in her eyes before going to take Pitch’s hand that he had smacked away.  


She was like a fucking lost puppy for attention-seeking.  


White-hot rage rushed through him at seeing this thing trying to one-up him in Tooth’s mutilated body. He hadn’t even really liked Tooth, but she had been the nicest of the Guardian’s. She offered him a place to stay once, but it had been during a run-in that happened randomly over Southeast Asia and it was more of a courtesy than anything. He had refused promptly.  


He stepped forward quickly and shouldered her out of the way before she reached Pitch’s hand.  


He grabbed the grinning man’s hand and made a let’s-fucking-go-then motion with his hands.  


The Nightmare King chuckled quietly and started walking forward.  


Sophie walked behind Jack, whispering in a terrible voice behind him. She was speaking Latin too.  


He felt fear seep into him for the first time since Antarctica and he stopped. He wasn’t even entertaining this anymore. Pitch looked at him, confusion writ on his face as the fear melted from Jack as quick as it had reared up.  


He wheeled around and smashed the butt of his scythe off Sophie’s face, then tilted her face up with the blade.  


She didn’t react, just stood there, a bruise was already forming on her perfect features. He sensed Pitch tense beside him.  


“Pitch and I are partners. Understand? You will answer to me as much as you will answer to him. This is no competition. I will tolerate,” he pressed the blade harder to her bare neck, “none of this bullshit.”  


A flicker of something darker than a shadow passed over her face, her eyes glowing. Then she threw herself down to one knee, nearly impaling herself on his scythe.  


“Of course, Master,” she said, her voice sincere.  


He spun and grabbed Pitch as she was kneeling there, pulling him down for a fierce kiss. He climbed up the man’s huge frame, and the King helped him along after a moment of shock-surprise, yanking Jack against himself.  


Jack groaned loudly as he moved to kiss Pitch’s neck and breathed ice on his throat, then ran his tongue along the cold. Pitch moaned loudly.  


And Jack hopped down off of him. Pitch made a sound of objection, grabbing Jack by dark locks to steal one more fiery kiss from him before he got away. Jack let himself be manhandled, loving Pitch’s hands in his hair. He let go finally and Jack faced Sophie as he pretended to straighten his sweater.  


Sophie was looking at the two of them, no emotion writ on her face but longing. She looked at Pitch and he looked back, confused, and her demeanor changed. She stood and lowered her gaze to the floor.  


Pitch huffed as he clued in and started walking again.  


He muttered something about children and ordered Sophie away; directing her through the maze. She paused a moment too long then nodded and took off, wings pumping in the wide hallways.  


He was glad that was over with. He mentally waved a single fingered salute behind the siren's back.  


Jack turned to Pitch as they walked, letting a small breeze lift him so he was floating on his back, facing Pitch as the tall man walked.  


“What?” Pitch asked, stopping and clasping his hands behind his back. He looked at Jack with eyebrows raised high.  


“Who’s Koz?” Jack asked, letting the breeze drop him to the floor. Pitch stiffened and looked pointedly away from Jack. He started walking without answering.  


“Hey!” he yelled, stepping in front of Pitch to stop him. “I asked you a question. Don’t be rude.”  


“You know, I've been called many things in my life, I can’t say _rude_ was ever one of them,” he muttered, smiling. He sidestepped Jack and continued on his way down the huge hall.  


“It’s your name isn't it? Your real name?” Jack was persistent, jogging to keep up with Pitch’s pace. “I just heard Bunny call you it during the figh- Hey! You’re not even listening to me!” Jack yelled, getting pissed at Pitch’s dodging.  


“Hmm? Sorry wasn't listening,” Pitch muttered, a smile plastered on his lips.  


“Pitch!” Jack yelled, slapping his scythe onto the stone floor. Ice shot out from the wood and turned the floor into a skating rink. Pitch yelled in terror as he was sliding across the floor in his shiny shoes. Apparently they weren't much for grip.  


Jack didn't even mean to do that, he just wanted to make noise- _like the child that I am._  


At the sight of Pitch though, struggling to try and find something to anchor himself with so he could walk, he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. In moments he was a wreck, doubled over as Pitch extended his arms and slid-wobbled his way to the wall for support.  


He was locked with a death-stare as he easily walked over the slick ice to Pitch, grinning the whole way.  


“Here I was just about to make a jab at you for being the supposed Guardian of Fun, pfft, yeah right,” Pitch mumbled, shaking his head.  


“Guardian of Fun?” Jack whispered. He had just learned his center from the Nightmare King. He laughed at the irony. “What goes together better than evil and fun?” He laughed harder at himself.  


“You and me,” Pitch whispered.  


Jack stopped laughing and looked at him. The Nightmare King had a smile on his face and was looking at Jack like no one ever had before.  


Before he could think better of it, he leaned forward and locked Pitch in a kiss; nothing sexual about it. He just pressed their lips together gently.  


He wasn't surprised when Pitch backed away. He still smiled when they separated. Pitch was still looking at him like that, eyes all full of something else now though.  


“Pitch,” he swallowed. “I’m- I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, clearing his throat.  


Why was it so hard to be nice around this man?  


Pitch’s expression softened, then he crinkled his eyebrows together, like he couldn't understand what Jack was saying.  


“Good,” he said, walking forward to grab Jack’s chin. He was completely composed again. “Because I’d kill you if you tried,” he smiled and kissed him tenderly. The threat hung in the air, but to Jack it meant nothing. He'd never try to leave. Where else would he want to be?  


He hugged the Nightmare King, burying his face in the man’s heavy cloak that smelled of smoke and cologne. He smiled as Pitch wrapped his arms around Jack and leaned his head on his; inhaling the smell of Jack’s hair.  


A scream sounded somewhere from in the maze, but Pitch didn't move, so neither did Jack. They stood there, wrapped up in each other on a skating rink, and Jack couldn't have felt more right.  


“I belong here,” Jack whispered out loud to himself.  


Pitch was silent above him, but the room lightened marginally.  


_Maybe we are getting somewhere here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a big huge thank you for all the kudos and comments, very inspiring c: love you all so much <3 thanks for reading!


	8. Getting Somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Not-Tooth have a standoff

Jack wandered into his room, huge waterfall still frozen above the also frozen lake that took up half the massive chamber. He subconsciously darkened the brighter than life room to where it was comfortable on his retinas and moved to his bed. Pitch had gone- well, wherever he went, and instead of following like a lost puppy, he told him he’d see him later, after he got some rest. The past few days had been weighing heavily on him, not guilt like he thought it would be, it was just that so much had happened. He stopped before he reached his monstrosity of a bed and plunked himself by the shore of ice.  


He reached forward and ran his pale finger along the line of rock and ice, smirking as darkness and cold reached out from him and created a tiny Pitch overlooking the pond, arms clasped behind his back. Jack smiled and created a tiny Jack beside him, impressed with his newfound skill. He created a black tendril of shadow that hung loosely between the two; connecting them. He grinned now, mutilating Pitch’s perfect face with a goofy handlebar mustache, cackling as he gave him horns and a devil’s tail. He threw a bit of magic on the two figurines to stop them from melting in the cave and stood, leaving his satanic staff by them.  


Brushing off dusty pants he padded over to his bed finally, crawling past the black-mesh drapery and under the heavy duvet’s and silk sheets. He normally never slept, but this was just for comfort, he could sleep if he wanted to, and sometimes it was nice to drift off to kill a few hours and wake up feeling refreshed. He darkened the room even more and grabbed one of the huge pillows, hugging it and smiling as he laid there. His crown teetered on his head and he let it fall to the mattress beside him, too cozy to move.  


It felt nice, having a place to call his own. He had one spot near Burgess that he had pretty much lived in for his whole life, but it was a rickety old wooden shack with two rooms and a ripped mattress. This was a palace. _His palace._ He sat up, smiling and looking at the sparkly waterfall to his left and the exquisite leather furniture near the door. The shadows had brought in the rest of the decor, draping heavy tapestries with battles woven into them across the stone walls and soft, dark furs lined the floor around a few pieces of furniture.  


He was happy here already and it hadn’t even been a week. He had the rest of eternity here with Pitch. The rest of eternity to be spoiled by the Nightmare King.  


That thought made a smile twist its way to his mouth, thinking of all the fun things him and Pitch could do together for the rest of forever. But his thoughts inevitably fell on Tooth and Bunny. He didn’t feel sorry for either one of them for what was happening; they were the stupid ones for not choosing the winning side. Clearly.  


A chaotic screech of laughter tore past his doorway then, scaring him so bad he screamed and he was on his feet with his scythe in hand before he even thought of it. He strode forward, the room darkening to almost black and temperature plummeting as he neared the door. He poked his head through the open portal and half expected something to come flying out at him. His heart was a riot in his chest as he leapt out in the hallway, staff poised to slice whatever moved to pieces.  


_Nothing._  


“What the fuck,” he whispered, lowering his staff and scratching his palm. He knew he heard something, but wasn’t about to go wandering around in the maze and get lost. The shadows edging the walls wiggled around in response to his fear, and he turned to go back into his room, emotions rattling around in his chest. He walked through the doorway and leaned against the stone that made his door.  


He didn’t want to be alone anymore, that was for sure. He dropped the shadows in the room completely, squinting as light flooded back in and glistened off the ice around him. He walked back over to the bed to retrieve his crown and smacked the bed with his heavy staff, sending the circlet flying into his awaiting hand. He smiled and flicked it into the air to land perfectly on his mess of black-silvery hair. The little bit of fun wore away at the panic-beat in his chest.  


He spun his scythe a few times in a complicated motion easily, and grinning, he turned to go find Pitch.  


And screamed in a very unmanly manner as Sophie was standing directly behind him, her huge wings fully outstretched. He cursed and shoved her back a few steps with a jab from his scythe, cursing more and looking at her with a what-the-fuck look.  


She just smiled back at him, not even flinching at the embarrassingly loud scream he’d erupted at her. He opened his mouth to say something when Sophie immediately dropped to her knees in front of him, wings folding behind her back. Bewildered, he stood there, not knowing what exactly to do. Was this some sort of show of devotion? Like a slave does with a King when he looks at it? He smiled as he pictured that, and faltered as he again thought of Pitch. He _really_ wanted to be with him now. He needed to leave. Something wasn’t right and he didn’t want to stick around to find out if his gut feeling was to be justified.  


Sophie didn’t seem to be doing much of anything, so he took a step back and cleared his throat.  


“Sophie-”  


She raised her head from where it was resting on her knees, and stood up quickly, wings still folded behind her thankfully.  


“You better watch your back, Jack,” she whispered, a high pitched cackle bubbling from her throat at her own rhyme. Those wide eyes tore into Jack, and he narrowed his eyes back at her; ice blue meeting yellow-black.  


“Excuse me?” he asked slowly, fury roiled in his chest at the threat and he took a step towards her, smacking his scythe on the stone. As soon as he took a step, so did she, coming close enough to him that Jack could see the pit-marks on her skin from the evil roiling in her. Jack was surprised to find himself angry at the maiming of Tooth’s body.  


Sophie breathed on him, a huff of hot hair and then she was spinning away from him, her golden hair spinning like a halo around her dark figure. Jack went after her, walking towards the frozen lake and sweeping his scythe in an arc to try and snag her on the blade. He was done here. He wanted to be with Pitch so badly he was debating just running away from Sophie, but he didn’t want to leave her alone in his room. He just got some privacy in his life, he wasn’t about to let Sophie ruin that for him.  


She spun a few more times and then spotted and crumpled beside the figurines Jack had created. Panic spiked in him as she viewed them, looking back at him with a smirk on her face.  


“You love him!” she exclaimed, slapping both of her hands on her crossed knees as she dissolved into a fit of laughter. Jack shifted on his feet, uncomfortable, but knowing denying it would do no good. Instead he scowled and created an ice ball in his hand; then whipped it at Sophie’s disaster of a face.  


It slapped into the side of her cheek with a clap that echoed in the silence that followed. Jack didn’t hide the smile that was tugging at his mouth, eyeing Sophie with a glint in his eyes.  


“You need to leave, I need to go see Pitch,” he said, tilting his head to the side and pretending to stifle a yawn. The siren looked less than impressed but she smirked and stood up, her long legs momentarily gapping to show Jack up her dress. He looked away, disgusted.  


When he looked back she had her tiny foot poised over the two ice sculptures, and with a twitch, she shattered the sculpture of Jack, grinding her foot into the stone. She flashed him an open-mouthed smile, and then took her foot away, leaving the Pitch with a funny mustache standing tall. The band of shadows that had connected them disappeared into nothing.  


Jack frowned in annoyance; he seriously had to deal with this right now?  


“You’re like a fucking child,” he muttered, making sure his crown was on his head. He turned from her before she could reply and clicked his staff on the floor once more before stepping into the shadows. He heard her scream behind him.  


He didn’t quite have the handle on shadow-travel yet, the only other time he had tried it on his own was when he appeared behind Bunny in the palace, and then it had kind of been luck. He thought anyways, he figured there was more to it than just thinking of where you wanted to go. But as he tumbled out of the other side of the portal, rolling into the room, he landed at the feet of a very surprised Pitch.  


The Nightmare King had a dainty looking glass in his hand and a book in the other, both eyebrows shot up as he looked down at the sprite below him.  


“Well, I can’t say I was expecting you, Jack,” he said dryly, and Jack could swear he heard a smile in his voice as the tall man turned his back to him. “Would you like a drink?” he asked, lifting his glass over his head and tinkling the ice in the cup at Jack. It was filled with an amber liquid that sloshed slowly.  


Jack stood, remembering himself and reached up to make sure his crown hadn’t moved. It was still sitting perfectly on his head. He slapped at the dirt on his black pants and walked over to where a black leather couch was sitting in front of a fire. He fell into the puffy seat and put his bare feet up on the heavy-looking mahogany table.  


“Only if it’s alcoholic,” he mumbled when the man had turned and looked at him expectantly. Pitch shot him a look for that. “If it’s not alcohol it’ll freeze when I try to drink it,” he explained, rubbing the bridge of his nose to re-orient himself. Pitch made an ah-ha face and smiled to himself, then proceeded to make Jack a drink. “Don’t bother with the ice,” he mumbled, and frowned when he heard ice clink into the glass anyways.  


Pitch turned and handed him a half-full-  


- _Or half-empty. Ha._ -  


-glass of dark liquid. Jack took it and thanked him, then scooted over so Pitch could sit down.  


“What’s bothering you?” he asked around the glass as he took a sip. He looked at Jack like he knew already, but wanted him to explain it. There was an amused look on his face when Jack stalled by taking a sip of the drink and made a terrible face at the strong taste. He swallowed it anyways and looked away as his throat burned. Apparently Pitch stocks the good stuff.  


_Of course he does, he’s a King._  


The thought made him chuckle and Pitch frowned at him. He took another drink, squinting at the taste, and then sat his glass on the table. He sat back and was about to begin when Pitch made a face at him and motioned to his cup.  


“Really?” Jack deadpanned. The Nightmare King sighed, leaning forward to grab Jack’s glass off the table and deftly slipped a coaster underneath it. Jack couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, and nearly laughed harder when Pitch popped the collar on his gold-laced cloak and lifted his chin playfully, looking positively dignified. “Stop, stop,” he laughed and Pitch dropped his chin, raising his eyebrows and wiping away an intoxicating smile with a chuckle and a shake of his head.  


Jack had a harder time wiping away his smile, looking at Pitch and shaking his head, mumbling under his breath about Pitch being incredible.  


“You know,” he stopped, laughed, calmed down. “You know I came here so pissed off, and within minutes you give me a buzz and make me laugh,” he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “So much for the King of Fear,” he chuckled, looking at Pitch’s smile that crinkled his eyes.  


He surprised Jack by reaching forward and putting a hand on his knee, his expression had dimmed. “Why were you upset?” the concern in his voice poked at Jack’s heart and he dipped his head to hide a different kind of smile.  


What was he even going to say? That Not-Tooth had scared him then came into his room and broke an ice sculpture that he had made of the two of them, and made fun of him for his feelings for Pitch? By the Moon, they _were_ like children. He winced and looked at Pitch, shaking his head to tell him it was nothing. He reached for his drink again, accidentally knocking Pitch’s hand off his knee at the same time.  


He wrapped his hand around his glass at the same time that Pitch wrapped his long arm around his back. Jack smiled around his glass and took a deep swig, loving how his body was reacting to the alcohol and Pitch at the same time.  


“If didn’t know better, Frost, I’d say you’re trying to get drunk,” he heard Pitch say behind him, rubbing his thumb along Jack’s ribs. He grinned and shivered in delight, leaning back and purposefully not setting his glass back on the coaster. This time though, a Nightmare-man appeared and sat the glass back on the coaster for Pitch before disappearing. Jack snorted and leaned back into the couch.  


“I think you’re right,” he muttered as he snuggled into the couch.  


“The times I’m wrong are far and few between,” Pitch whispered in his ear, sending goosebumps along his skin, Jack’s laugh felt like it came from his toes.  


“You know,” he started, shifting so that he could look at the King and wavering as he felt the alcohol already starting to affect him. “I think that Sophie is seriously in love with you. She came into my room earlier and broke a carving that I made, and then laughed in my face when she teased me about loving you.” He said it before he could stop himself. And the hand he slapped over his mouth couldn’t take the words back. The alcohol worked fast on poor Jack.  


_Shit._  


He felt Pitch tense beside him, but the King didn’t say anything.  


“Pitch, I-”  


“It’s okay, Jack,” Pitch whispered. “I’ll have my Nightmare’s lock Sophie away whenever she isn’t needed so she doesn’t bother you again,” he said, he sounded formal and his thumb had stopped stroking Jack’s side.  


“Oh. Thanks,” he muttered, feeling awkward next to Pitch now. He moved to sit up but Pitch held him close, not letting him shift even an inch. He tried to look up but Pitch promptly plunked his chin atop Jack’s mess of hair. He laughed a little and settled into the man’s shoulder, letting him have his privacy. He didn’t mind being all snuggled up to Pitch anyways, he brought his legs up onto the couch too and all but laid on the Nightmare King’s chest. Pitch didn’t stiffen this time, and Jack relaxed against him. The King lifted his head off Jack’s and started running his fingers through the winterlings hair, tsk’ing when he felt a tat and gently tugging it free.  


Jack shut his eyes; they were getting pretty heavy with Pitch’s long fingers running across his scalp and the alcohol singing through his veins. Did Pitch love him too? A hopeful part of Jack shook his head yes vigorously, but Jack knew better. He knew what love meant to Pitch. He had had a family before all of this Nightmare King stuff, and Jack knew better than to think he would just jump back into a relationship the first chance he got. Or would he? The King had been alone for a long, long time, maybe he was as desperate for love as Jack was.  


“You know, I knew you before you were Jack Frost,” Pitch whispered, bringing Jack from inside himself; fingers were still running through his hair. Jack’s eyes widened slowly and he sat up next to the King, looking at him carefully, like if he moved too fast he could shatter the moment and Pitch would never continue. The alcohol buzz was fogging his mind, and he couldn’t think of an appropriate response, so he just stared.  


When Pitch didn’t return his look and said nothing more, Jack sat up straighter. “Go on,” he urged, crossing his legs like a child and waiting impatiently.  


He sighed and sat forward, mumbling something Jack didn’t catch and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sighed again and looked at Jack sideways, resting his temple in his hand, he just looked at Jack with some unreadable expression on his face.  


“Jackson Overland,” Pitch started. “That’s your full name. You had a younger sister named Anna and your parents loved you very much,” he had looked away from Jack now, like he couldn’t stand the utterly shattered look he must have on his face.  


Grief washed over him in a wave and he had to catch his breath as it rushed from his lungs.  


 _I had a family? And Pitch knew me? He saw it all and now here he is._ An unrecognizable emotion washed through him, sweeping away the grief and leaving him with a warm feeling in his stomach, though his heart still pounded so hard in his chest he looked down to see if it was thumping visibly against his shirt. Pitch knew him. Before he was even Jack Frost.  


“Did you have anything to do with me becoming Jack Frost?” he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer. What if Pitch was the whole reason he wasn’t dead? He didn’t even know how to feel.  


“No,” he answered quickly, looking at him to make sure he was believed. “I had nothing to do with that,” he sighed and stood up, moving to refill his empty glass Jack didn’t even remember him drinking. “I watched you because you were interesting; always playing pranks on your sister and your friends. You had lots of them, and I envied you,” he paused, exhaling shakily, and turned with his fancy cup filled to the brim with alcohol. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear anymore; he could feel the dark ice that had encased his heart start to crack. It was melting with every word Pitch said, and there was nothing Jack could do but listen.  


Jack went to stand but Pitch shook his head. “Don’t, just- just let me say this,” he almost looked afraid. Jack crinkled his eyebrows but stayed where he was, lacing his shaking fingers together on his lap. “The day you died,” he stopped, winced and cleared his throat. The word “died” sounded like it was painful for him to say. “The day you died, I was there, watching you play with your sister on the ice. You were pushing her around so she could slide, and just once, you pushed too hard and she slid across the ice near the middle of the pond,” he walked back over to the couch but sat further away from Jack.  


“Where the ice is weaker,” Jack whispered to himself. Fleeting images were starting to flash behind his eyes, and he closed them, trying to catch the images and his speeding heart. He wanted to tell Pitch that he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to hear it, but he was entranced. The thought of him having a family was making him dizzy.  


“The ice started cracking and I could see it in your eyes, I was watching from the forest line, and before I could even react, you scooped her out of danger and plunged into the water in her place,” his voice caught then, and Jack watched him carefully. “She screamed, and it cut me to the core. You had never met me Jack, but I felt like you were my friend, you were a distraction, kept me entertained over the long periods of stalemate with the Guardians,” he sighed and looked at Jack, measuring what he was going to do. When the winterling didn’t so much as shift, he continued. “I stayed, frozen in shock, and watched you sink under the water. Your heart stopped and so did your body. Then the extraordinary happened,” he paused and looked at Jack with reverence in his eyes. “You rose from the water, pulled by the Moon, and I sat on the sidelines, watching you come back from death. I left before you saw me though,” he whispered the last part.  


Jack said nothing, just stared at his glass in his hand and frowned.  


_Darkness. That's the first thing I remember. It was dark, and it was cold. And I was scared._  


His thoughts were back by the lake in Burgess, the first night he remembered. Darkness was there before anything else. Was that Pitch? Was that why Pitch wanted Jack to be with him? That didn’t make sense. Why didn’t he come forward sooner? Why did he leave? Why let Jack deal with this on his own? He felt hurt that someone who apparently was actually paying attention to him didn’t even tell him. The questions spun and whipped around behind his eyes and he shut them, shaking his head.  


He had a sister though! And parents! Well, used to. But he had a family, someone who loved him, and he had sacrificed his life for his sisters; Anna.  


His eyes shot wide open as an image flashed behind his eyes, brown hair, chocolate eyes and a brilliant smile all belonging to a little girl that shone like the center of Jack’s fucking universe. He choked out a sob and Pitch moved to comfort him. He waved him off and stood, holding his mouth and side with his hands as he smiled and despaired at the same time. Tears rolled off his face so fast it was startling. Happiness filled his chest so full he thought he would burst, it still hurt that he had lost his little sister, but knowing that he had been the reason that she smiled and laughed for another eighty-some years made his head spin with glee. He had been _loved_. He had saved the love of his life; nothing could be more worthy of his death than the saving of his sisters.  


“Jack,” Pitch started, rising from his seat. Jack looked at him and flashed him a teary-eyed smile, another sob-laugh popping from his mouth. He couldn’t even stand anymore; he sunk to the rugs on the floor and just sat there, watching Pitch’s shadow as he walked over to the sprite. Pitch sat down on the floor with him, smiling down at the smaller man. “I’m sorry I didn’t approach you sooner,” he started, wrapping his big hands around one of Jack’s carefully, like he was worried about breaking the small fingers if he was too rough. “I knew that I would forever be the villain in this world, and I didn’t want to drag you into that, so I let the Guardian’s have a shot at you first, before I would sway your choice,” he shook his head and smiled at Jack, a look in his eyes that screamed, ‘ _I can’t believe you’re real._ ’  


Jack blushed under the look, rubbing his thumb over the gray hand. Pitch in turn rubbed his sharp-nailed thumb over the sigil on the back of Jack’s, frowning as the spikes in it arched and spasmed towards him.  


The winterling frowned as the sigil reminded him of all the evil he had committed in his life. It was always done out of spite for the family he never had, in rebellion to the Moon that mocked him nearly every night with its brightness. He had wanted to stray as far from that bastard Moon as he could. He cursed it as he had frozen children in their step for being out past dark, had cursed it when he sent ice down sewer pipes to burst them in the early hours of the morning, had cursed it when he sawed North’s head from his body. He felt a scowl drape over his face and his heart speed up as he recalled all the evil he did because he thought he was his own person. Now he realized he owed that life to a Moon God that had saved him for sacrificing himself for his sister. The dark deeds in his past felt both justified and filthy at the same time. He wanted to commit more blasphemy in the face of the Moon for abandoning him after saving him. He didn’t deserve isolation after such a selfless act. Tears sprung to his eyes tenfold.  


“I lost myself in the shadows for a long time, Jack,” he whispered, startling Jack from his thoughts. Pitch was staring down at their hands, squeezing Jack’s and finally looking up at him, tears threatening to fall from his golden eyes. Jack’s heart lurched and he reached up, going to wipe the tears away. Pitch flinched and moved back, frowning as he looked at Jack, then into the fire. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I can’t do,” he waved his hand in the air between them. He looked like he was searching for the right words but he said nothing. Jack sighed through a sob and put his hand on Pitch’s thigh.  


“Then let me,” he whispered, climbing into the huge man’s lap before he could escape. He wrapped his legs around Pitch’s back and settled his butt into the gap between his legs, resting his head on Pitch’s chest. Wrapping his arms around the gray chest in front of him, he sighed contentedly. Tears were still running from his eyes as he smiled into the gold-laced cloak, inhaling deeply. “Thank you,” he choked out when Pitch hugged him back, holding him tightly against his chest.  


“Thank _you_ , Jack,” Pitch whispered into his ear, rubbing his big hands across Jack’s shoulder blades as sobs shook him. The emotions that raced through Jack were pushing him closer to having a full-on meltdown in Pitch’s lap, but he shoved them back down; he didn’t want to ruin their moment with his tears.  


So they sat there, Jack silently crying in the Nightmare King’s arms and Pitch just silent, he couldn’t say how much time had passed- not like he had clocks in the lair to refer to anyways. Jack was surprised at how easy it was with Pitch. He felt completely at ease with the most terrifying man on the planet. He smiled as he nuzzled Pitch’s neck with his nose, nibbling lightly, and Pitch gasped at the fangs on his skin. He tried craning his head away from Jack in feign terror, but Jack held him there and started kissing up the gray neck to a pointy ear. Pitch groaned and leaned his head back to Jack. It was so easy. He was already distracted by Pitch’s body and the man wasn’t even doing anything.  


“That’s better,” Pitch whispered, and Jack could hear the smile in his voice as he ran his tongue back down to the man’s sharp collarbone. Pitch didn’t so much gasp as inhale, but Jack liked hearing the small, rare noises his King let out. Grinning, he bit him. Hard.  


Pitch yelled in surprise and jerked backwards, pulling Jack with him to smack onto the carpeted floor, where the winterling laughed and clung to the larger man. He heard Pitch cursing and struggling to sit up, and when Jack finally let him, the winterling had tears in his eyes still, but couldn’t control his laughter at the expression on the Nightmare King’s face.  


And then Pitch laughed. The most carefree, full-throated, gorgeous laugh that Jack had ever heard. He devolved into a fit, pushing Jack from his lap in mock-anger and clutching his stomach while he laughed. It made Jack contain himself and watch Pitch start to regain control of his own laughter. When Pitch looked at him, his eyes misty and sparkling, he looked hardly like the Pitch he had lived around in fear for so long. He looked young and vibrant and powerful and happy. He crawled forward on his hands and knees and kissed the King, wrapping his arms back around the gray neck. Pitch tensed at the soft contact and pulled back a bit.  


“Please,” Jack begged, splaying his hand over the Nightmare King’s smooth chest. “I want to touch you,” he moved his hands up to the inky hair on Pitch’s head, watching the bigger man flinch, but he sat completely still. Jack ran his pale fingers through the contrasting locks, and smiled when Pitch relaxed; seeming to realize he wasn’t going to yank all of his hair out.  


He was about to kiss Pitch again when a voice interrupted him.  


“Aww, how sugary-sweet,” the velvety voice said.  


Jack turned and saw Sophie leaning against the door jamb like a predator, eyeing him and Pitch. Speaking of.  


Pitch stood with a flourish, dragging Jack with him. “What are you doing here, Fearling?” Pitch demanded, shadows blackening the corners of the room. “You should know better than to disturb me,” he warned, his voice dangerously low. Jack noted with satisfaction that he didn't refer to Sophie by her chosen name, he smiled.  


Sophie noticed Jack’s smile and snarled at him, taking a step towards him threateningly just like in his bedroom. Jack took a step towards her too, feeling blue-lightning crackling from his fists. Pitch stepped in between both of them, leering down at Sophie through golden eyes. The fearling-monster shrunk back a few steps, lowering her eyes, her face full of horror. “I’m sorry, Master,” she whispered, flicking her eyes to the King. She winced and looked away again at whatever she saw.  


“Do you see what I was trying to explain I was dealing with?” Jack huffed, turning from Pitch to go and get another drink. Sophie had ruined his buzz completely. He grumpily dumped liquor into a clean cup and turned back to the duo. Pitch looked at him with an apology on his lips, but Sophie cut him off.  


“You do realize that he has no intention of staying with you, right Pitch?” she said, her voice as sharp as a razor. Jack gaped at her lie, his glass slipping from his fingers momentarily. He caught it and whipped it at her head, to which she ducked easily. It shattered against the wall behind her. Pitch frowned at Sophie then turned and looked at Jack. Hurt apparent on his face.  


“Pitch you _cannot_ believe that!” he yelled, taking a few steps to stand by his King’s side. “She’s obviously lying! She’s a bunch of Fearling’s smashed together; she’s evil!” he was all but wailing at Pitch’s side, trying to get that look on his face to disappear. But of course Pitch believed her. Of course. Fucking figures, as soon as Jack has Pitch opening up, Sophie shows up to crash the party. He scowled at the Fearling and turned away from Pitch, striding towards her with lethal intent.  


“Jack-”  


“Fuck off!” he yelled at Pitch, arriving in front of a smiling Sophie. He grabbed her by the neck and threw her back out the door, sprinting forward and catching her with a foot to the ribs as she landed. He dropped to his knees beside her and smashed his fists into her face again and again and again. Her face gave way under his fists, he felt bones snap and blood flew. He kept beating her lying face until he felt hands pulling him off of her. She scrambled away from him, fear written on her smashed face. Jack reveled in it and snarled at the tugs on his arms.  


“Jack enough!” Pitch bellowed as the winterling froze the shadow hands holding him. He shattered the Nightmare-dust grabbing at him and closed on Sophie again, landing another hit before he felt Pitch’s own nails digging into his arms, pulling him away. Sophie was just smiling a perfect smile as bruises formed on her beautiful skin. As Jack was locking eyes with her she blinked once, and Jack froze when he saw Tooth’s violet eyes flash momentarily. Sophie’s face shifted to Tooth’s, then it was gone, back to the Nightmare-ish visage.  


“ _NO!_ ” He screeched, throwing everything he had in him behind him to desperately shake Pitch off. He was seeing red and Sophie had a cross-hair on her smiling forehead. He was mad with rage, flailing for all he was worth. When he realized that he wasn't doing shit against Pitch, he simply drew in a breath and exhaled.  


A cone of ice and lightning erupted from him, smashing into Sophie and driving her into the wall across the hallway. He poured his every ounce of power into the attack; but was cut off by a clump of something shooting into his mouth. He fell to the ground as the hands released him, and choked as he clawed at his mouth, pulling out sticky chunks of Nightmare sand.  


He heard a snap and the sand turned to liquid in his mouth, and he coughed and spat. Finally he puked on the floor, and then threw a disgusted scowl up at Pitch. He was standing between him and Sophie now. The Fearling monster had passed out, and was crumpled beside the wall. Pitch put his hands up to calm Jack as the Nightmare King walked forward.  


Rage came back to Jack in a rush, and he scrambled to his feet, running back into the room. He grabbed his scythe and ran back out before Pitch had even moved. He shook his head and spat at the Nightmare King, betrayal coursed through his veins; then he turned and sprinted into the shadows.


	9. Sophie and Sophie

Jack tumbled out of the shadows onto the street, rolling a few times as his momentum died. He jerked forward to sit up and came face-to-face with a transport hurtling down the road. He threw his arms up and screamed; and nothing happened.  


“Son of a bitch!” he screamed, slamming his fists into the cement and getting more furious as his fists didn't even sting from the impact. He wished the fucking truck would have flattened him into the road. He looked to see it merrily continuing on its way, but it was thirty feet up the road and had been completely sheared in half. One half was lying in the middle of the road; the other was straddling a culvert and sagging off to one side. It had spilled its innards of white boxes all across the road.  


He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline rushing through him and spewing ice onto the road from his scythe; streetlamps shatter-popped nearby from the sudden and sheer temperature drop. He stared at the truck, eyes wide at his own power. He was rage incarnate and the power that coursed through his veins was insanity. The very shadows quivered as he raked his sneer across the empty streets of Burgess. It was late and he was furious; but he was just beginning to believe Pitch’s words of being God’s.  


He was absolutely _furious_ with Pitch though. That motherfucker restrained him for no other reason than to protect his precious Sophie. If it were possible he was sure his pale skin would be green with envy. He had never been protected by anyone, let alone someone as strong as Pitch, and here he was betraying Jack’s trust by stepping in a fight that had everything yet nothing to do with him.  


He pulled at his dark hair and stabbed his scythe into the pavement easily. His conscience told him to go and check the driver of the truck he had just halved, but he felt like snapping necks he was so mad. He needed to do something to burn off this anger, he felt like he could destroy the world with a thought and was afraid of doing just that. His anger peaked again as he realized that Pitch hadn't even bothered to come after him, not knowing where he would go or not; it was pretty damn obvious he’d end up in Burgess. If Pitch didn't know that then he truly was an idiot.  


He wrinkled his nose at his own insult. Pitch was many things but he wasn't stupid. He might just be the smartest person Jack had ever met. Pitch was certainly the oldest. The man had to be thousands of years old, and Jack’s head spun at what he must've seen in his life. He wished Sophie had never interrupted them dammit, he had so much that he wanted to ask Pitch, so much he _needed_ to know. The questions were endless.  


And so was the desire that uncoiled in him at just the sight of that tall dark man. He was head over heels for the Nightmare King, hopelessly in love with a man he barely knew. In love with a Godking. His stomach clenched as he pictured clambering up the King, and his heart clenched at the look Pitch always gave him. His mind flashed his momentary lapse of judgement in telling Pitch that he loved him. Maybe that’s why he chose Sophie over him.  


_He didn't choose Sophie over you._ He frowned at his subconscious’ reasonable voice and then frowned at the sky. Anger swept over him again as he realized Pitch must be tending to her wounds. He _had_ beaten the shit out of her. It wasn't out of loss of control either, he had wanted to hurt her bad, and he had. He hoped she had a broken spine and brain damage, he hoped with all his heart that she would be dead. Tooth was lost anyways.  


He scoffed and flexed the muscles in his legs. He needed to fucking _do_ something to get rid of this rage.  


_Or go see someone._  


The thought stopped him and sent his head spinning, he fell to his knees with tears gathering in his cold eyes, he let out a sob and shadows edged with frost spilled out from him onto the pavement. The anger was abruptly gone as he thought of the little boy he himself betrayed just a short time ago. The shadows inched closer to him from the alleyways and benches, sensing his fear and turning on him; and then Jack was flying through the night air. He back flipped off of buildings and tore past windows, leaving them frosted and rattling. He was perched on a tree branch across from Jamie’s house in less than two seconds, and though the tears had been blown away his breathing was erratic and jerky.  


_I would look some crazy if anyone could see me._ He thought bitterly, sneering at the white bark.  


He peered into the child’s dark window, seeing nothing. So he tore around the house and caught himself on the porch, swinging into the open kitchen window and landing on the tile floor. There was food that had been left sitting out on the counter, and the only light came from a television in the other room. He poked at a potato on the counter, leaving a stab-wound in its skin from his scythe then padded silently over to the wall that separated the two rooms. He saw Jamie and his mother curled up on the couch and frowned when he didn't see Sophie, but figured it must be past her bedtime by this hour anyways. It had to be past Jamie’s too, he frowned.  


A sob from the boy sent a chill down his cold spine.  


“Jamie, baby, don’t cry,” his mother soothed him, her own voice sounding raw and exhausted. Jack turned around and peered at the clock on the oven.  


3:42. It was 3am? Why the hell was Jamie up?  


_Maybe he had a nightmare,_ he thought, narrowing his eyes, cursing Pitch in his head.  


“We can go see her in the morning, sweetie, let’s just get some rest, the doctor even said she might be able to come home tomorrow,” he heard the woman whisper.  


More chills ran down his back and he tripped over himself as he darted for the stairs, dread filling him as he neared Sophie’s colorfully decorated door. He burst in and saw an empty bed.  


“ _No_.” The word rushed from his lungs in a whisper. He flew- literally- down the stairs to eavesdrop more on the conversation.  


“She’ll be fine Jamie, I promise,” he heard the woman whisper in a shaky voice that was anything but convincing. Jack fell to his knees behind the couch, invisible. He stared at the ugly fabric with a blank expression. What had happened? Why wasn't he there to protect them? Why the hell did he let Pitch do what he did to Jamie?!  


_If Pitch has something to do with this I swear._  


A bell startled him enough to make him stand and raise his scythe defensively, but he lowered it when Jamie’s mom went ripping by him, nearly impaling herself on the invisible blade, and fumbled with a cordless phone beside the television.  


“Hello?” she asked the phone, hopes written painfully on her tired face. She nodded into the phone a few times and she glanced at Jamie, who was looking at her with huge eyes. Then she whispered something Jack didn't catch into the phone, and it fell from her fingers. He raced over to it and listened to hear what he could.  


“ _Ms. Bennett please answer me! We’re so sorry we couldn't call earlier to get you down here, I’m so sorry! It happened so fast, she was fine I swear it, and then her heart just stopped! She was stable! Ms. Bennett please!_ ” There was a pause. “ _We’re sending a cruiser over to make sure you guys are okay, please, we’re so sorry,_ ” the voice on the phone was sobbing now. Then there was a click and then a dreadful silence.  


Jack turned to Jamie and his mother. She was just standing there, blank faced, and Jamie was asking her something that Jack couldn't hear over the roar of rushing water in his brain. Ms. Bennett’s scream pealed the air then and she fell to her knees, Jamie rushing over to her and latching onto her, his own wail joining hers. Jack wished the little boy could see him, he wished he could comfort Jamie, hug him and tell him it would be alright. But that wasn't his life anymore. He had made his decision. But it still hurt.  


_I can't be here._  


Sophie was _dead._  


That wonderful little blond tyke that made Jack’s heart swell was decomposing in a hospital bed right now. He clenched his blade tighter as he watched the Bennett’s hug, their cries filling Jack’s ears. He looked at Ms. Bennett, wanted to scream at her and ask her why the fuck she left her baby girl in a hospital alone. Was she fucking _mental_? More importantly, why the fuck did Jack care so much? Why was he so fucking furious? He pulled at his hair and spun on his heel; the rage was back with a goddamn vengeance.  


His heart was erratic and he couldn't breathe as he stumbled back into the kitchen, climbing onto the counter and throwing himself out onto the lawn, cracking the window from the force he threw himself with.  


The rest was a blank; he wound up downtown, a broken lamppost to his left and a car with a four foot hole in the side of it on his right. He was breathing heavily and he didn't even want to look behind him to see the trail he left. His vision was dotted with black as he stumbled into an alleyway, and when he nudged his shoulder on the brick, he howled like an animal and smashed his foot into the wall, which disintegrated into dust.  


He stumbled another few steps and then tripped and fell to his knees. His scream was alien to his ears; he couldn't feel a fucking thing. As if he wasn't distressed before, Sophie. . .  


He screamed again and pounded his fists into the pavement, chunks flying, until he reached the soil beneath it. He exhaled slowly and shakily and raced over the events in his head. Jack had no idea what had happened, but she was clearly doing better before whatever happened happened to her, or else Ms. Bennett and Jamie would have been there when she- right?  


He pulled on his own hair again, teeth clenched in rage. He was so fucking torn between his two lives he wanted to smash his face bloody; tears rolled down his cheeks and he had to wipe them away as they turned to ice on his skin. He was infecting the alleyway with frost and shadows, and it was like the Valley of the Shadow of Death in there. Ice coated everything, it was snowing, and the light from the street stopped at the roadway, bathing everything in unnatural blackness. His mind screamed at him to be upset about this, to be furious, but his new self wanted to roll its eyes and move on. But there was no way, he had loved Sophie, still did. She was the little sister that he never got to keep, and now she was gone too. He screamed again in pure frustration and wished that Not-Tooth would show her face right the hell now so he could smash _her_ face bloody instead, oh the fun he would have with a punching bag.  


He’d make Pitch look like a saint.  


He stopped there, his eyes slowly narrowing in realization as he thought about it. No way would she do that; no _fucking_ way. She _was_ a Fearling, but there was no way she would sink that low. Would she? He couldn't believe his own thoughts when they prodded him towards the truth.  


“No! _NO!_ ” He screamed, bolting into the shadow of a building.  


And came out on the other side faster than ever before. It was like the shadows knew how livid he was and spat him out quickly.  


He was in the throne room, and was facing the twin contrasts. He noticed that Pitch had North’s head still stuck on the pike and mounted on the wall like the trophy it was. Bits of his brain stem still dangled below.  


He turned to face the cages, but they were all empty, even the one Bunny was in before. He skipped forward and launched ice missiles at the cages every step in a rage, screaming into the chasm and it spat a twisted version of his own voice back. He pulled at his hair in distress. He was gonna fucking lose it, could already feel the shadows prodding him towards it, pulling him to surrender himself completely to the rage. But he needed to find the Fearling cunt, he _had_ to hurt her, she had fucking done something to Sophie, there was no doubt about it. She wouldn't pick that fucking name for no reason, she had probably warned Jack just by picking that name, and Jack had laughed with her at it, thinking it was hilariously terrible.  


“Jack!”  


He jumped twenty feet back at the voice, back-flipping to skid the last five feet, crouching and wielding his scythe between him and Pitch. He snarled like an animal at the Nightmare King and for the first time Jack had ever seen, Pitch looked scared.  


“Jack,” he said again in a quiet voice, raising his palms to Jack and walking forward. “Calm down, please,” he whispered. Jack felt himself start to settle just at the sight of Pitch, but then the too-recent events roared back behind his eyes and he swung his weapon.  


“ _NO!_ ” he hollered, making Pitch flinch back. His chest swelled with confidence as the Nightmare King backed up a step from him. “Stay the fuck back you traitor!” he screamed, slicing the air between them with the blade, making Pitch take another step back.  


The look on Pitch’s face was almost enough to make him lower the weapon.  


“Traitor?” he whispered, no longer retreating but not advancing. “Jack, I was just trying to stop you from _killing_ her,” he said; his golden eyes were too dim.  


Jack’s expression must’ve faltered because Pitch looked slightly relieved and moved towards him again. He opened his mouth to say something but Jack beat him to it. He didn’t fucking want to hear words from Pitch anyways.  


“ _She killed Sophie!_ ” he roared, his voice was a bass too deep for his own voice and he could’ve sworn he felt the rocks quake. His vision spotted black and he felt more than saw shadows dancing around him, much like they danced around Pitch on the first day of their deal. He saw Pitch’s expression go from confusion to fear in the time it took him to say it.  


Pitch was saying something but Jack had ears only for that bitch Fearling. Water was rushing through his eardrums again and he flexed the muscles in his arms and legs, the power racing through them was making them tingle. He strode forward with a snarl and Pitch intelligently moved out of the way.  


He was moving impossibly fast, darting around corners and flying up staircases, flinging himself off of the wall with his scythe. He came upon his room and entered only to be sure she wasn't hiding in there as a sick fucking joke. Instead he caught a reflection of himself in the huge mirror; and it stopped him dead in his tracks.  


His eyes were glowing golden-blue, his hair was blacker than Pitch’s and writhing around his ice crown, his fingers had turned to claws, shadows were encasing most of his forearms, the sigil from Pitch was a glowing black-gold circle that alternated with a blue triangle. He looked like a fucking monster, and he flashed huge white saber-like fangs at his reflection.  


No wonder Pitch had looked scared. He would have laughed but his mind was preoccupied with a little girl. All he could think of was that what if it had been his little sister? What if it was Anna? What did that Fearling _do_ to Sophie? Did she kill her after Jack left her beaten on the floor? Or was it before that? Was Sophie infected with some kind of shadow illness? Was there even such a thing? The questions whipped around in Jack’s head as he stormed back out into the hallway. Pitch came around a corner a ways down the hallway and saw him, then shadow-traveled and was in front of him.  


“I can’t find Bunnymund,” he said, and it didn't go unnoticed that he used Bunny’s full name. He swore loudly when he felt concern for the jack rabbit, who knew what the Fearling bitch was doing to him. He would flatten a city if she killed Bunny. Not because of any liking he had towards the fucker, just because she didn't get to. Jack and Pitch had every claim on that Guardian’s life, they had plans for him.  


“Where would she be, Pitch?” he growled, his voice scratchy and uneven and too deep. He sounded like a man possessed.  


“I think I know,” he whispered and grabbed Jack’s hand, who almost ripped it away, but Pitch pulled him into the shadows easily. They came out in a brightly lit room with several cells lining the walls, which were made of a light clay-looking rock and iron bars. He scanned the cells but didn't see the bitch Fearling or Bunny. Pitch pulled him along into another room, where they stumbled into her.  


She was holding a metal brand over a fire and Bunny was curled up in a tiny cell behind her, blood leaked from several patches of burnt hair. Jack launched himself at her with a roar as she looked at him with those beautiful eyes, his claws already digging for them. But Pitch caught him by the waist and pulled him close, to which he wailed and tore at the Nightmare King’s arm.  


“How nice of you to finally join the party!” she exclaimed, her bruised and beaten face beaming at them. One eye socket was sagging entirely too low, and dark purple bruises marred her whole face. Her left arm was sagging beside her, a bone poking through the beautiful skin that used to be there. One leg looked broken too, but she was putting weight on it just fine.  


She narrowed her eyes at Jack and waved the poker away from the fire and towards him, the angry-red metal make him flinch. With a huff though, Jack blew ice at it and froze it solid. “Shit!” she yelled, placing it back in the fire. But the transition was too extreme for the metal and with a pop it broke into pieces. She cursed again and pawed at her hair anxiously. “Shit,” she whispered. “You fucker!” she moved towards Jack, who felt his fingers forming into claws as he smiled.  


_Try me, bitch._  


“You’re coming with me,” Pitch said, flinging Jack behind him suddenly and away from the bitch as she stepped closer. Jack wanted to tear his claws into the bastard’s spine. But he knew better.  


“Where are we going!” she said almost cheerfully, pawing for his body. But he stepped forward and grabbed her by the neck, shadows wrapping around her limbs. A shadow-gag shut her scream up, and then shadows pulled her into their domain. Jack’s eyes were still spotted with black as he watched her go.  


He took a breath and then was calm enough not to scream. “Where _is_ she going, Pitch?” he hoped it was hell.  


“Somewhere she can’t leave.”  


Jack let it go at that, pleased that Pitch didn't give the bitch a chance to explain herself. But displeased that he didn't get to dig his fingers into her skin and make her beg him to stop. She wouldn’t have been able to talk actually. Maybe he’d rip her vocal cords out when he tracked her down.  


He turned to Bunny, who was shaking and bleeding onto the stone floor beneath them. He walked past Pitch, bumping his arm violently on the way by and extinguishing the fire to his left then knelt by the cage. Most of the fur on his left arm was burned away and the crispy flesh was branded with a small square. He poked the wound, wondering if the rabbit was still conscious, and barely avoided the clawed swipe that came through the bars at him. Lightning fast, he punched the arm before Bunny could bring it back in and heard the Guardian yelp as he ripped it back inside, away from the Ice Lord.  


He shook his head stood again, rubbing his temples.  


He felt Pitch step behind him and he moved away from the Nightmare King, turning towards him. He wielded his staff between the two of them, pointing the blade at Pitch’s face.  


“I’m still fucking furious with you. You fucking prick,” he said, his eyes were icy flames and he almost sneered at the frown that passed over Pitch’s face. This man was supposed to be the King of Fear and yet he looked sad because Jack was mad at him? The winterling was disappointed. Mad even.  


Pitch’s returned sneer surprised Jack then, and he fumbled with his scythe as he took another step back. The Nightmare King was fast though, and before he could even gasp in surprise his arms and legs were bound by shadows, his scythe clattered to the stone floor and Pitch had his big hand wrapped around Jack’s neck, squeezing so hard it he felt every heartbeat in his face.  


_Shit._  


“You’ll never _learn_ , will you, Jack?” Pitch whispered, leaning his head down to hover the bridge of his nose on Jack’s exposed collarbone. Jack felt his skin prickle where the King’s breath ghosted over him, but managed to choke back a moan at his proximity. He tried his legs and arms, wanting to get away, wanting to smash Pitch in his golden-eyed face, just wanting _space_. He struggled and opened his mouth to tell Pitch off, but shadow’s rushed into his open maw like a vacuum, and he choked as they pushed into his throat. Fear lanced through him as air stopped flowing into his lungs, but the shadow’s left his throat and he inhaled as deep as he could through his nose, which made a wheeze as he pushed air past the hand. Pitch inhaled sharply in his ear, humming deep in his throat. He tilted the hand on the winterling’s throat and positioned Jack’s chin to look at him, smiling affectionately at his gagged, purple face.  


“That’s better,” he mumbled, stroking Jack’s chin and dipping his head to bite his neck hard. Jack tried to yelp, but he just hummed in his chest slightly, drawing a laugh from Pitch. Then the Nightmare King held his hand palm up, where a tendril of shadow formed and roped all the way to the shadow’s holding Jack. The end of the rope formed a heavy collar around Jack’s neck from nightmare sand. Jack looked up at Pitch with fear coursing through him, desperate to get away from him now. He could feel the raw power building with his desperation. He had no fucking clue what Pitch was going to do, but he didn’t have the hope in him to think it was just going to be sex. Though he could go for a good fuck. Burn off some anger maybe. He could sense the dangerous cold-calmness in Pitch’s gait as he walked out the door of the room, choosing walking instead of shadow-travel. Jack floated along on shadows behind him, breathing heavily out of his nose.  


He saw the King look over his shoulder and smile at Jack. _Making sure I’m still here, asshole?_ Jack spat, struggling to make the shadows obey him and let him move. They all remained like steel though; undulating grotesquely against his perfect skin and leaving stains behind like a giant snail. He could feel the power in him, could feel it pushing up against his skin, wanting out through his mouth and hands. But neither one was available, so it churned inside of him and died. He sneered and bit at the shadows in his mouth, fearing where they were going.  


He got his answer when Pitch stopped and motioned into a dark room, where the shadow’s dropped him unceremoniously on a bed off to the side. He wanted to curse and storm out like a toddler, but the shadows bound his ankles together and pulled his wrists behind his back. Or, he supposed, Pitch was telling them to do that.  


The Nightmare King walked slowly into the dark room, a heavy door slamming and clicking into place behind him, and then he was moving to Jack and standing by him. The only light came from a lamp on the other side of the apparently large room, and it just outlined Pitch’s silhouette before him.  


“You still haven’t learned your place with me, have you, little one?” Pitch asked, his voice was like silk. Jack screamed into his gag, wanting to explain himself, wanting to apologize, but the Nightmare King just laughed and waved a hand between them. “No matter, it can be taught,” Jack didn't like where this was going and fear lanced through him. Pitch’s chest heaved as he inhaled the scent, smiling at Jack. Shadows were wrapping around his eyes and then he was blind and panicking. He wanted to explain how that Fearling bitch had killed Sophie, though he didn't have the details to explain it, and he was acutely aware of how much more powerful Pitch was than him in that very moment. The collar around his neck melted away but the shadows still held his hands and feet together.  


He was laid back on the bed he was on, his hands still painfully bound behind him as the mattress dipped beneath Pitch’s weight. He immediately tried to sit up, tried to get away so he could yell at the bastard on top of him, but Pitch pressed his mouth to his and pushed him hard against the mattress. The shadows in his mouth left him and the space was replaced by Pitch’s insanely talented tongue. The muscle prodded at his clenched jaw and he tried to turn his head away, but the King grabbed his face then twisted his nipple hard and made him scream. Pitch’s tongue darted into his mouth and Jack tried to ignore how good it felt to be so utterly helpless, so _dominated._ He tried to ignore the fantasies that were springing to life in his head and that ache in his belly that was making him feel delirious.  


“Stop, Pitch,” he mumbled desperately past a black tongue, and tried pushing the apparent Man of Steel off with his chest, which only made Pitch wrap a hand around his lower back and pull him tighter to the King’s solid body. He was too strong dammit. He panicked when Pitch moved his mouth to Jack’s jaw and ran his hot tongue down Jack’s cold neck then back up, leaving bite marks and then licked at his ear lobe. The winterling couldn't stop his eyes from rolling back in his skull. No, dammit. He didn't want to deal with this right now. _To hell with Pitch for doing this to me._ It wasn't like it was rape, Jack’s boner could prove that, but he didn't want this right now, he had so many emotions running through him the last thing he wanted to worry about was sex.  


He paused his panicking at that thought. There was no _worrying_ about sex with Pitch, even though they had only fucked twice, both times his mind felt clearer after. Maybe this was the outlet Jack needed to escape this anger. But he didn't want to escape it; he wanted to deal with it. But maybe Pitch saw how mad he was, knew he couldn't deal with these issues while he was so pissed. Or maybe he was reading too much into this when the sexiest man in existence was devouring his throat.  


“Never.” Pitch whispered firmly in his ear, denying a request Jack didn't even mean anymore and sending goosebumps racing along his skin. This was getting too erotic for him to fight off now. He had wanted Pitch’s attention for a while, and now he had it, and he was complaining? His subconscious was shaking his head at him and frowning. A particularly wet lick over his Adam’s apple made him moan deep, and his mind was wiped clean as the only thing he was focusing on was Pitch’s tongue. He blinked into the blindfold and smiled as the Nightmare King tore the sweater he was wearing to ribbons. He felt claws scratch lightly down his torso, then that sinful tongue swirled around a nipple and his eyes rolled back into his skull beneath the shadows.  


“Pitch,” he moaned out, completely throwing in the towel with trying to escape. “Please, _ahh_ ,” he groaned, begging and lifting his hips as Pitch worked his way down to bite at his hipbones. A laugh from the dark man was all he got in reply before his pants were yanked down and he felt Pitch’s weight leave the bed. Jack cried out in protest, but that cry turned strangled as he felt an insane tickle on his dick. It circled his sex and wound its way to the top, where the mysterious pressured tentacle began a rhythm of stroking and pumping that made Jack open his mouth in a silent scream.  


“Oh! My god! Ahh! Shit!” he huffed out, his breathing timing with the pumps. It had to be a shadow jacking him off. He wanted to see it, but not being able to was driving him even crazier. This had to be the most intense pleasure he had ever felt and so he almost came when he felt a shadow slither up his chest and wrap loosely around his throat.  


He threw his head back on the bed as the sensation overwhelmed him, turned him into a slobbering, arched mess that was hurtling towards a life-altering orgasm. He screamed in protest when the shadows left him too. He sat up, or tried to, but the shadows shoved him back to the bed. Jack whined at how close Pitch must be, probably watching him, god that was hot to think about. So he started pushing his hips back and forth on the bed to make a real show of it.  


The teen was leaking onto his own stomach he wanted it so bad and he made a lots of noises for his King. He noticed the bindings on his legs disappear and knew exactly what Pitch wanted him to do. So he spread his perfectly naked legs for him, giving him as big a view as he could.  


Pitch made him want to obey everything the man said and didn't say. He wanted to dote on his every whim and drop to his knees before his dark King as Pitch sat in his throne and suck his dick until he was satisfied. He wanted to be so submissive it was hurting his chest. God he was desperate. He would be embarrassed if he wasn't so fucking horny.  


“Please, Pitch, mmm,” he moaned as pleasure crawled through him at the sound of his own begging, the fact that this man reduced him to a wet mess in minutes. “I can’t,” he trailed off into a moan as Pitch climbed back on top of him. He arched his back towards the grey-skinned fiend as the King lowered himself down slowly, trying to tease Jack with his body. But to hell with teasing. He lifted his hips when Pitch didn't press himself against Jack right away, and he wrapped both legs around the Nightmare King. With inhuman flexibility and precision he rubbed the massive diamond-hard affair of flesh between his ass cheeks, grinding Pitch’s tip roughly against his hole.  


Pitch moaned loudly at the sensation and grabbed the winterling by the hips, letting the sprite do most of the work. He whispered something under his breath that Jack didn't catch, but he didn't care because he was in Neverland right now soaring through the clouds. Pitch groaned again and lifted Jack with frightening strength to sit on his lap, his lips immediately going to his neck again.  


And then he was being impaled.  


He screamed as he was lowered down on the huge thing, it stretched him until he couldn't stretch any further and then stretched him more. He hated and loved how Pitch didn’t finger him first, it was so _raw_.  


He screamed into Pitch’s neck, biting the grey skin so hard he heard Pitch hiss beneath him. He was still lowered further, and almost told the King to stop because it hurt so fucking much, but when finally their hips met, Jack exhaled. The hurt was bad but so fucking good, the pain shocking up his spine and making him make noises like a banshee.  


There was no _way_ he was this big last time they fucked. Then he remembered Pitch’s words about controlling his appearance, and he grinned into the King’s shoulder. Jack barely had time to take one full breath before Pitch lifted him up with that scary strength again, letting the massive girth slide out of him, then dropped him back down, drawing a strangled sob from Jack.  


“By the God’s,” he heard the King whisper, laughing as he moaned into Jack’s shoulder and rolled his hips. “You’re so _cold!_ ” he said, shivering. And in contrast, Pitch was like a searing rod inside of him, and it felt fucking glorious.  


Jack was seeing spots at how good it was starting to feel, how the almost unbearable sting was starting to fade into an ache that was making him buck his hips wildly. He was consciously telling himself to relax his hole, not to clench as that huge dick slid out of him again and Pitch’s breath came out ragged. He was afraid of how much it would hurt if he actually clamped down on this monster. He moaned loudly, biting lightly at his King’s pointy ear which earned him a particularly hard thrust.  


He pulled at the restraints on his wrists, wanting to brace himself on the grey shoulders in front of him, but Pitch was moving him before he could ask. He spun Jack on his dick so that they were facing away from each other and threw the smaller man on the bed like a sack of potatoes, face-down and off his cock. Jack loved it.  


He suffocated for a moment then managed to press his shoulders into the bed and turn his head to the side, but didn't even get to inhale before Pitch was inside of him again. The new angle let Pitch slam into him faster, and Jack was screaming in pleasure beneath him. Sobbing into the silk sheets under him. The smaller man’s eyes swam with black spots as pleasure tore through him like a fucking tidal wave, throwing caution and anger and fear to the wind and replacing it with white-hot light and sparkles.  


“Pitch!” he yelled, getting cut off by an aggressive thrust. “Ahh! Pitch! Yes!” he huffed, spreading his legs wider for the King and pushing his ass up higher. Pitch noticed and wrapped his big hands around Jack’s slim hips, grabbing his bobbing erection and pumping him in time with his animalistic rutting.  


The Nightmare King muttered something like Jack’s name then flipped the sprite over and pressed him into the bed with a hand on the winterlings throat, propping the thin legs over his shoulders. Jack was screaming as his ass was completely abused, and he was loving every painfully deep thrust he was pushing to meet. Their new position put them face-to-face, and Jack watched Pitch’s contort erotically as he thrust into him. Gods he loved Pitch’s sex face. Those flaring golden eyes, his perfectly inky hair, his sharp teeth. He loved it all. He was a fucking demon and Jack loved seeing him panting and thrusting into him.  


Pitch squeezed the hand tighter around the winterling’s neck and Jack screamed past it, eyes rolling back and oh god.  


The world went white. And then went supernova as Pitch hit that wonderful bundle of nerves deep in his ass over and over and over and over. He screamed until he was hoarse and then gargled out noises as Pitch squeezed his neck so tight he couldn't breathe. Then the Nightmare King was coming deep inside him with a strangled yell of his own. The Northern Lights were swimming across his vision and he was floating in a lake full of ecstasy. He felt Pitch slide the massive stake out of him and finish on his own dick. _God_.  


Then Pitch slapped a hand across his mouth, silencing his gasps as the Nightmare King collapsed beside him, and Jack could finally see again. He took several breaths before his lungs cooperated appropriately. He _was_ a bit of a screamer, who knew.  


His mouth was still open against Pitch’s calloused hand, so he licked it. The Nightmare King whispered an ‘eww’ under his breath and wiped the hand on the bed sheets beneath them while Jack chuckled at the ceiling. That was damn near life-changing, he had never experienced anything even close to that madness before, and all he could do was smile. He grabbed a handful of bed sheet and wiped the mess from his stomach, flipping the wet side over so he didn't roll onto it.  


He turned himself over with difficulty and collapsed against Pitch’s perfect chest. The Nightmare King wasn't even sweating. _Must have some damn stamina._ He smiled, thinking how long he could really last and snuggled deeper into his chest, smiling wider when the King didn't push him away. He decided he liked this, the aftermath. This was the first time he had actually been able to relax after him and Pitch did the do. He hated how the Nightmare bastards plan had worked though, Jack wasn't mad at him anymore. It was like the sex obliterated everything else negative. There was just too much positive to go around. He shifted his thoughts away before they could spoil his sparkling mood though.  


Jack frowned when he felt Pitch’s breathing change, and risked lifting his head from the King’s chest; to see Pitch Black, the King of Fear and Nightmares, drooling as he slept like a baby. Jack barely restrained himself from laughing, not wanting to wake him. He looked so at peace, so calm. He noticed wrinkles that he hadn't seen there before and almost reached out to smooth them away before he thought better of it. His eyes were strange when they were closed though. He could still see the glowing gold through the thin skin, and it was so enrapturing he almost didn't want to look away. So he didn't.  


He absently traced black tattoos on his grey chest, happy when it didn't wake him. He wondered idly when the King had slept last, then wondered the same about himself. Jack normally slept through some of the summer days, but never for long, and never as easily as Pitch had just passed out. He must have needed it.  


So he laid back down on the King’s warm, hard chest, wrapping his arm around his torso and closing his eyes. His grin nearly took his ears when Pitch shifted in his sleep and brought his arm to wrap around Jack’s back and pull him closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally don't like cuddles after smut but I couldn't resist with these dorks<3 Pitch being cuddly is just too adorable, and they love each other so much :3 !
> 
> anyways though, I'm sorry this took so long, been so busy with work lately, it's been tough balancing everything! so, I hope you all liked it :)  
> As always I love you all for reading and being so amazing with your comments and kudos!  
> Much love! <3


	10. of Monarchy and Anarchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch and Jack finally address the humans.

Jack woke from sleep with a jerk, his pupils focusing onto a dozen pairs of yellow eyes beside the bed. He drew back and almost screamed until he remembered where he was.  


And who he was.  


He was looking at some small fearlings; they had large eyes and small bodies that were wrapped around their neighbors like braids. The little things were sitting on the stone floor and staring at him with silent curiosity.  


Jack’s open mouth curled into a smile and he laid his head back down on the silk sheets. _You’re quite cute_ , he said to them in his head. He reached out with white fingers that glowed in the darkness and they broke apart; flocking to him like it was their only chance for survival. Four slapped onto his hand itself, and the other bunch clambered up to his elbow, licking his skin and gnawing slightly on fingers with sharp teeth. Their skin was soft and they were impossibly light, like little wisps of fabric rushing over his skin.  


Jack grinned widely as he was reminded of having found a few kittens years back. He had wanted to play with them terribly, but they didn’t even notice him. He followed them around for nearly three days and ended up leading a small girl in their direction, who had then scooped them up and took them home. He imagined this is what it would have felt like to be able to touch them.  


_Who knew Pitch’s minions were so darn adorable?_ He chuckled lightly, not wanting to wake the man behind him. The winterling bit his lip and twisted his head around to peek at the devilish royalty abed with him. The sight of Pitch sprawled out on the mattress took his breath away; he was all perfect angles and peaceful strength. Jack couldn’t remember ever seeing the King that relaxed and he ached to run his fingers over those entrancing tattoos on his chest. His heart fluttered at the memory of Pitch’s protectiveness, the fact that a being as fucking perfect and dark and powerful as Pitch wanting only to spend his time with Jack. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest.  


He didn’t even know how long they had been sleeping, thanks to the goddamn lack of clocks in the place. Pitch never seemed keen on timekeeping anyways. He turned his hand over and rested his head on the edge of the mattress again, laughing as a fearling fell off and plopped onto the stone with a puff of smoke. It opened a darker-than-black mouth in a silent scream then tore out the door. Jack frowned as the other fearlings stopped what they were doing and started letting go of his hand.  


He watched them flee with a smirk. _Skittish little creatures._ He wondered idly why they hadn’t come out before, but he supposed that he hadn’t really been around too long. It had been less than a week since everything had happened; he shook his head in amazement and rolled towards Pitch with a smile on his face. He wiggled up so that he could snuggle into the larger man’s shoulder, and let his eyes slide shut as he inhaled that Pitch-smell he had come to love.  


The back then took a great inhale and suddenly he was staring into a golden eyed smile. Jack’s own smile almost took his ears and he smacked a kiss on Pitch’s perfect mouth before he could even fully wake up.  


“’dmornin’,” the Nightmare King mumbled sleepily, wrapping his free arm around Jack and pulling him close. Jack gladly cuddled up to the man, and giggled lightly when he heard Pitch inhale against his hair. Neither of them moved for a few minutes, and Jack was beginning to wonder if Pitch fell back asleep when he was released from the iron grip holding him. Pitch groaned and rolled onto his back; flaking out on the huge bed. “It’s been a damn long time since I slept like that,” he whispered.  


Jack silently nodded, admiring the body of the God lying in front of him.  


“How long was I asleep?” Pitch asked, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Jack frowned at the loss of contact.  


“I’m not sure. There aren’t any clocks in here,” Jack said, rolling off the other side to get some clothes.  


He got a grunt in reply and watched as Pitch pulled on the infamous sleeveless robe, then covered most of his chest and arms in shadow. Jack pulled on a pair of black jeans but frowned when he couldn’t find his shirt. So he copied Pitch and made a black sweater out of shadow, giving it three-quarter sleeves that pulsated to his wrists then up to his elbows.  


“So cool,” he whispered, running his fingers over the shadows and grinning with undoubtedly sharp teeth. He heard Pitch snicker and looked over to see the King pouring himself an amber drink. Jack grabbed his scythe and waltzed over, parking his ass right on the beautiful oak cabinet. He swung his feet out, banging his heels off the wood which earned a look from Pitch, who downed the half full glass in a swallow.  


“So I was thinking,” Jack started, hopping off the cabinet to stand.  


“Rare occasion?” Pitch remarked, turning around slow enough that the winterling could see the smart-ass smirk.  


“Fuck off,” he muttered with a giggle. “I was thinking that we should go outside, ya know, cause some mischief!” he followed the tall King over to a leather sofa, where he perched on the arm, watching Pitch sit and cross his legs as gracefully as a cat.  


“Mischief? What kind of mischief?” Pitch said around his glass, eyeing Jack with bright eyes.  


_Oh yeah, I know you’re interested in my kind of fun!_  


“Oh come on! You should be dying to know what the almost-Guardian of Fun wants to do with his new powers,” Jack whispered, twisting some shadow-sand and frost around his hand with a movement.  


The glint in Pitch’s eyes told him he had hit the mark. The smirk that crept its way across the grey mouth felt like a trophy for Jack; he had to refrain from cheering.  


“You know, I have been meaning to kick something off up there,” Pitch said, finishing his drink and standing. He pulled Jack with him, who gave a small cry at the quick motion. He laughed and nodded up at the tall man, following him into a corner of the room.  


They came out on a dark rooftop high above a sparkling city. Jack wasted no time sprinting to the edge and throwing himself over the lip with a yell. He twisted away from the twenty story building and rolled in the air, rocketing towards the ground and the hundreds of humans that crowded the street. In the time it took him to plummet, he noticed that the atmosphere on the surface had changed.  


He noticed how dim the streetlights were now, and there was a heavy haze over the twinkling city. Everyone was wearing either grey or black; the street looked like a funeral procession, and Jack loved it even more.  


Only when the shortest trees started getting dangerously close did he pull up, flipping around to race back up to the top of the building. The air sang in his ears and he couldn’t even hear himself screaming with joy. He had missed the wind terribly.  


He reached the top of the building and grabbed the ornately carved edge to flip himself around and land on top of his scythe beside Pitch. The Nightmare King took a look at him, shook his head, chuckled, and reached over to smooth Jack’s hair back. It was probably standing straight up. He chuckled and accepted the petting like a cat, closing his eyes and leaning into it.  


Pitch laughed again and yanked on the end of his black locks, tearing him off his perch. Jack caught himself and scoffed but looked out at the actual view before them, realizing that they were overlooking an area Jack had visited a few times before.  


Buckingham Palace.  


_How very Pitch_ , he chuckled to himself as they looked silently over the gorgeous building.  


“I mean to eradicate the monarchy and take the palace for myself,” Pitch said, and Jack, intrigued, took a step toward the maniacal grin that was plastered on his face. “Oh how I long to string their bodies up from the Grand Staircase and paint the walls red with their royal innards,” he laughed, smacking his hands on his knees. Jack smiled at him, pictured the red imagery of overthrowing the _monarchy_. He loved the idea. He loved the symbolism; it would crush the humans.  


“Is that why we’re here?” Jack asked the still giggling Nightmare King.  


“No,” Pitch whispered, straightening. “We’re here to announce ourselves to the world,” he turned to the edge of the building and melted into the shadows. The winterling turned to the edge of the building to see him reappear in an alleyway below. He wasted no time shadow-travelling to stand beside the man.  


Then Pitch stepped out of the darkness and started walking up the street. Jack cocked his head to the side and walked out as well, dragging his scythe beside him.  


“What are we doing?” he asked the Nightmare King.  


The tall man just motioned ahead of them with his chin.  


And Jack saw.  


People were looking at them. People were _seeing_ them! An older couple whispered to each other and pointed in their direction; a young girl smiled shyly at Jack; a young man tightened his coat around himself at the sight of Pitch; but everywhere, people were looking at them. Not everyone seemed to notice them, but still! The pair stood out like sore thumbs on the busy street, and Jack’s grin hurt his face.  


“Pitch,” he whispered, he could feel tears wetting his face. The Nightmare King didn’t answer, instead, it got darker on the busy street, and people started walking faster. Jack felt the darkness seeping out of Pitch, and though it didn’t scare him he felt it like a heavy blanket; an oppressive weight that pushed on his lungs. Some humans even choked on it.  


Then a nightmare horse was under Pitch, all shifting sand and yellow eyes and the people that could see him were screaming and running now. Not one to be left out, Jack whooped and created his own ice-shadow horse that sparkled and clip-clopped proudly on the stone beneath him.  


Some people screamed in terror at the two of them, while some just gaped, and the ones who couldn’t see what the ruckus was about were whispering to each other and making phone calls.  


Jack felt a surge of white-hot rage flood his veins. These bastards only believed in them when they were a threat. Some of them _still_ didn’t see them. Some people thought their fear was _insanity!_  


_I’ll show them insanity. I’ll make them see!_  


He hollered a battle-cry and started chasing people down the street, laughing when they slipped on ice he planted in front of them and cracked their heads open on the pavement. Everyone was in hysterics then. Jack rode like the Grim Reaper, trying to slice people with his scythe, but he proved rusty with his horseback skills and ran them down instead. Spines cracked under his horses ice-hooves, he even managed to pop someone’s head like a pimple, and when a trail of a dozen bodies weaved behind him he stopped, panting and flushed. He turned to see Pitch sitting on his massive horse, waving his hands like an orchestrator. Black sand and shadows weaved from his long fingers, snapping around people’s feet and stuffing themselves into screaming mouths, turning their faces purple.  


He rushed down the street to a pack of nearly two dozen people all huddling inside of a store with glass windows and painted-on coffee decals. Some people ran from the glass, ran from him, but others were grabbing them, holding them still, and screaming in their faces. They had no idea. He put his palms against the glass and it exploded inwards, blinding the majority of people inside with the dust, and the remainder were the ones who could see Jack. The ones who had shut their eyes in fear of him. He smiled at them and flexed, letting his shadow-shirt pulsate over his lean body, then jerked his head to a corner in the small café.  


They all sprinted over tables and chairs to reach the corner, and Jack converged on the blinded people. Some looked around, blood poured from tiny dots in their eyes, and Jack laughed at them. At the sound of his laugh all sixteen of them froze.  


Then they literally froze as the winterling sprayed them one by one with frost; pinning them to the walls by everything but their heads. They screamed as they were lined up in a row. Some tried to run but he caught them of course, and when they were all lined up, blind and bleeding and screaming, he stuffed shadows into their noses and mouths and whispered his name in their ears.  


He turned on the remaining few in the corner, leaving the rest on the walls to suffocate, and was about to ask them who he was, but a young teenage girl beat him to it.  


“You’re. . . Jack fucking Frost. . . aren’t you?” she asked, rising to stand before him. He smiled at her accent; she sounded like Pitch. She was quite pretty, with black hair shaved on one side and dark makeup. He walked forward and grabbed her by the chin, tilting her face up to him. She looked at him with what he thought was admiration, but when he touched her with the shadows, he saw. She was smitten with him.  


He laughed as her thoughts flitted through his mind. Dark, disturbing images of Jack on top of her, holding her down as she struggled. Then her fears hit him, typical teenage stuff. Afraid to die, scared that her classmates won’t accept her. But one caught his eye. Her biggest fear was being refused by Jack. Her biggest fear had just materialized in the past minute after looking at Jack. He was quite flattered, and looked at her in a softer light.  


Then Pitch smashed through the window beside him and grabbed the girl by the hair. He threw her into the wall beside Jack, shattering her skull and killing her. Without a word, he turned and left.  


_I wonder if those fantasies broadcast themselves straight to Pitch as well_. He smiled and laughed. _This is way too much fun._  


He turned to the remaining people there and sprayed them with a shower of razor sharp icicles, killing them and their screams instantly. He turned to leave but decided he wanted their first encounter with the humans to be a little more . . . spectacular. So he grabbed the girl’s mangled face and dragged her outside, pulling the rest of the bodies off the walls and the floor to drag behind him on shadow-ropes. He rounded the door and flung the young girl at the sign above it, launching an icicle at her neck after, which pinned her bleeding corpse above the door.  


The name of the café was The Hangout, and Jack nearly pissed himself laughing. Not being able to resist, he copied the action with the rest of the almost two dozen corpses, arranging them in a snowflake pattern and sticking icicles in their eyes. The building was three stories of a Christmas tree from Satan. Blood ran down the windows, but Jack wasn’t satisfied, so he flew around a few bodies and slit their stomachs, effectively disembowelling them. He stared in sick fascination at his fancy handiwork for longer than he should have, but he was soon thirsting for more. He _hungered_ for more.  


Jack’s laugh came from his toes and he whirled around, looking for anyone that still couldn’t see them. He spotted a young girl with blond curls wrapped in the fetal position in a corner, and he swooped over to her with fire in his eyes.  


The little girl screamed and held up a teddy bear in defence, which Jack slapped away with the razor edge of his scythe. He crouched down in front of her and grinned with sharp teeth.  


“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked softly, reaching forward with cold hands to pry hers away from her face. Her blue eyes nearly matched Jack’s own.  


She trembled a bit, and whispered something Jack didn’t catch. He cupped his ear and leaned closer to her. “Annabelle,” she whispered out, shaking so hard she was barely breathing now. She was looking wide-eyed at something on Jack’s face. Probably blood.  


“My name, do you know what it is?” he asked her, keeping his voice low. She shook her head in a no, and he laughed loudly, the sudden noise made poor Annabelle jump and smack her head on the brick behind her. He laughed again. “It’s Jack Frost,” he whispered, and he saw recognition light up in her eyes. “Do you know who that is?” he asked, pointing to Pitch; who was surrounded in bloody corpses and weaving spider webs to trap people, then summoning giant shadow-sand spiders to cocoon them. He was laughing like a crazy person, and Jack smiled at him.  


“That’s the Boogeyman,” Annabelle whispered, eyes huge at Pitch.  


“ _NO!_ ” Jack screamed, slamming his fist into the brick above the girl and showering her with dust. “His name. . . is Pitch Black,” he took a breath. He was more than irritated that Pitch was recognized and he wasn’t. “Do you know what we’re here to do?” Annabelle shook her head no.  


Jack leaned an inch away from her ear this time, and whispered as quietly as he could, “We’re here to take over the world.” Annabelle’s face paled and she started to cry. No, wail more like. And the sound pierced Jack’s ears like trumpets from heaven. He was disturbed with himself that he was enjoying her cries, but he felt the darkness in him taking over. Before he knew it he had the little girl by her blond ringlets and was dragging her, screaming, behind his horse.  


He rode up to the star of the show just as he created a massive five foot tall tarantula that sprinted towards several long bundles in webs and stabbed them with its massive fangs. Wails filled the air, but they quickly turned to gurgles as the venom from the arachnid turned their innards to juice.  


“That’s fascinating!” Jack exclaimed, watching with sick wonder as people puked up their intestines. “I didn’t know you could simulate venom with shadows,” he looked up at Pitch with admiration in his eyes.  


_I wonder if there’s an even limit to what Pitch can do with the shadows._  


“Yes, I’ve learned much about shadows in the past centuries, it seems they’re quite versatile,” he said, turning from the spider to face Jack. “What do you have there?” Pitch asked, smiling and leaning to the side so that he could see Annabelle. She screamed again when she saw Pitch and tried wrenching her hair away from Jack. He growled and yanked her screaming body onto his ice-horse with him, cradling her like a baby in his arms; her hair was still tangled around his fingers.  


“This is little Annabelle,” Jack said, petting her tatted hair with his free hand. “She’s going to help get the word out about us two. Aren’t you Annabelle?” he whispered to her, she gave him a panicked nod.  


Pitch’s smile was pure evil, and he reached for Jack palms-first like he was a God.  


“Brilliant, dear Jack, brilliant,” his horse trudged forward and he passed Jack, stopping to grab the winterling by the neck and kiss him. Jack tilted his head up, giving Pitch better angles to work with, and was nearly torn from his horse as Pitch yanked him closer. He moaned into the kiss and wanted to chuck Annabelle away so that he could straddle Pitch in the street, but the Nightmare King moved away and held Jack by the neck still, looking at him. Then he smiled that sexy smirk and leaned in slowly, moving Jack’s head so that he could run his black tongue up his neck.  


The sprite shivered and let his eyes roll back at the feeling, and when Pitch stopped at the corner of his mouth he nearly screamed. Pitch moved his head so that they were eye to eye again and gave Jack a grin, then threw the winterling’s head to the side a bit and rode on by.  


It made Jack’s stomach twist and his cheeks heat up. “Put her against the wall,” the Nightmare King instructed, and Jack immediately shoved Annabelle against the bricks again. He would have done the chicken dance in the middle of the street had Pitch asked him to.  


The King wasted no time sealing the tiny thing against the wall, and just as he was stepping back to admire his handiwork, flashing blue and red lights lit up the street and sirens wailed towards them. Jack turned and saw no less than a dozen police cruisers careening around the corner. No one had been driving when the situation unfolded, but dozens of bodies lay bleeding and broken in the street, and the cruisers couldn’t get closer than thirty feet back without running over bodies.  


Jack looked around and realized it looked like they had set a bomb off in the middle of the street. The people were still strung from the building, six giant spiders were still feeding from wiggling cocoons, and countless bodies lay in the street. There was even a stream of blood running into a storm drain beneath his feet. He glanced up at Pitch to see the dark man already winding up to throw something at the humans.  


And throw something he did.  


It was a huge sphere of shadow-sand that landed on the hood of one of the cars and exploded into ice-shards and sand as soon as it impacted. Some humans grabbed at their eyes, blinded by the shrapnel. Jack laughed loudly, and the remaining officers drew their guns, but didn’t point at the two.  


“They can’t see us!” Jack whooped, clapping and dancing around the King like a moron.  


“Let’s change that,” Pitch growled, and the streetlights for the next quarter-mile popped and shattered and plunged the street into darkness. The officers yelled and flashlights lit up, joining their headlights and sirens as the only lights. Then Pitch was muttering in Latin, and his golden eyes rolled back into his head. Jack readied his scythe for what might happen.  


A deep boom sounded as Pitch hit a certain word and the ground quaked. Jack stood on shaky legs, only to see Pitch levitating above the ground.  


_Good idea._  


He followed suit, then another deep concussive boom sounded, like someone banging a bass drum in the middle of the Earth. The bass shattered all of the lights from the officers and their yellow-bannered cruisers, plunging the street into true darkness. Then a crack shot from under Pitch’s feet directly to the cars, where it stopped. And the Earth opened.  


Red light lit the crack from within, and dark shapes poured from it like cancer. They surrounded the cops, who were now screaming and scrambling for their cars. The red glow was the only light in the street now, and Jack wondered if Pitch had just summoned a piece of Hell.  


More cop cars came screeching around the corner, along with half a dozen helicopters shining spotlights on the crack. These cars were all black though, with some kind of design on the side of them.  


_Security around the Palace! Riiiight._ Jack thought, smirking at the added targets.  


He laughed to himself, still levitating in the air, and shot an icicle into the forehead of a pilot, sending the chopper careening into a high-rise and exploding, raining debris down on the street and crushing four cars. The shadow-men surrounding the screaming officers were waiting for something, like they were jerking against a leash. Some officers opened fire at the men, but the bullets just bounced off their non-existent skin.  


“ _HUMANS!_ ” a voice bellowed, drowning out the sirens and helicopters and screams. Everyone stopped screaming or shooting and they all saw Pitch, who was levitating now in direct view of everyone. Jack saw a little motion on one of the Nightmare King’s hands, and took it as his invitation to join him. So he flew to float beside the King, and he cracked a terrible grin.  


Pitch cleared his throat and summoned a shadow-cloud for the two of them.  


“You might be wondering, what in God’s name is going on,” he said, raising his index finger at them. “And you would be right to wonder so,” he stopped and laced his hands behind his back. “I am Pitch Black,” he bowed flamboyantly. “And this lovely specimen,” he motioned to Jack like he was a statue. “Is Jack Frost,” at their names, one of the officers cracked a smile, snickered, and was about to laugh, but Pitch swiped a hand in his direction and a shadow-man raced forward. The shadow man threw chunks of his body every which way. The mood regained its seriousness after that.  


Jack saw multiple large vans pulling up behind the officers, and saw people with huge cameras climbing out of them. _Reporters. Perfect_.  


“Smile and die,” Pitch whispered, and Jack was almost gleeful when dark wings exploded from Pitch’s back. The huge raven feathers floated down to the cops and soaked in the blood on the pavement. “I am personally responsible for all evil in the world. For all the darkness and genocide and murder and theft and rape and fear and _nightmares!_ ” he yelled the last part, his wings curling around him and his eyes bleeding gold like the sun. “And this creature,” he said, turning to Jack. “He was responsible for giving fun and joy to children like little Annabelle here,” she screamed as he looked at her with his hell gaze. “But then he met me, and we became brothers in arms, war-leaders in the coming revolution. And now,” he stopped and laughed, keeling over. “Now. . . you’re all _fucked!_ ” he screamed, looking right into the cameras on the ground. Then shadow-men were on the officers.  


Jack took the opportunity to get some attention himself, and launched icicle after icicle at the helicopters and surrounding buildings, then turned and shot ice-lightning at the vans the reporters were driving, carving a snowflake and an outline of Pitch into the side of the aluminum.  


The shadow-men were animals, biting chunks of flesh off and flinging them and laughing terrible screeching laughs. Pitch and Jack and the reporters were sprayed with blood like a horrible baptism. The screams from the officers quickly died out, and the reporters, who just realized that they could very well be next, started fleeing to their vans. Quickly, Jack turned and released Annabelle from her bonds, and watched as she went scurrying to the reporters. One of the female ones saw her and scooped her up.  


Jack was once again reminded of kittens, and he snorted derisively at himself.  


As soon as the last cop was in several pieces, the shadows screeched so loud it shattered the windows around them and they were sucked back into the crack in the pavement. The opening didn’t close though, and Jack was tempted to throw ice into it to see if it was as hot as it looked. But Pitch grabbed his hand and, laughing, he was pulled into the shadows.  


They came out under another night sky, in a different city. On a different continent? Jack peeked over the building they were on and recognized Time Square.  


“Jack,” Pitch was breathing easy beside him and was gazing at the sprite like he was made of gold. His beautiful, unholy wings were gone from his back. Jack smiled at his King and nearly fell to his knees at the joy that was rushing through him.  


“Pitch, that was legendary!” he yelled, whooping in the air and swinging his scythe around.  


“That was amazing wasn’t it?” he smiled at the smaller man. “This is going so much more amazing than I had planned! I haven’t felt this powerful in a millennium, Jack!” he was holding Jack’s face now with a look of awe. “Where have you been all this time, Jack Frost?” he whispered, planting the gentlest kiss on Jack’s lips. He responded just as softly, wrapping his arms around his King and letting his scythe clang to the rooftop. Pitch slipped his hand under the back of Jack’s pants, cupping his lower back and pulling him painfully close. The winterling obliged, curving his back and craning his neck to keep in contact with the tall man.  


Pitch let him go suddenly and Jack put a hand over his smile. Pitch stepped back and cleared his throat, lacing his fingers behind his back again. _Is the Nightmare King flustered?_  


“So, now what?” Jack smiled a huge smile, bending to pick up his staff; he loved asking that question now. Pitch’s sigh drew a laugh from him, and when the Nightmare King turned, he was smiling too.  


“Now, dear Frost, we’re going to conquer the world,” he whispered, launching himself over the edge of the building. Jack looked over the side of the building and saw that he landed in a huge explosion, and he was now standing in the middle of the massive crosswalk in a massive crater. Jack laughed a little maniacally and jumped down as well.

They continued this in every major city they could think of; Moscow, Paris, Sydney, Tokyo, Abu Dhabi, Amsterdam, Prague, Baghdad, Rome, everywhere they could think of. They killed millions of people, maimed twice that many, flattened cities and small towns along their way, shattered internationally famous relics like the Eiffel Tower and the Taj Mahal. Turned them to dust and ash. And, thanks to Annabelle, everyone in the world knew their proper names and intentions.  


Jack had mixed feelings in the beginning, he had spent a whole day freaking out about what heinous acts he had committed, but in the following week they became international criminals and made the top two most wanted men in the world. Jack had never felt more alive or ever been happier. His petty problems were behind him. Sophie was out of his mind, Bunny could’ve been dead for all he cared, and Jack was out conquering the world. He and Pitch were soon dubbed supervillains, and the world was holding their breath for the appearance of a superhero. Little did they know that he and Pitch had already conquered them.  


And when finally, they were on every news station in the world, with cities arming nuclear weapons to launch at the next city they attacked, Pitch brought them back to Buckingham Palace. They had been gone for a total of seven and a half days, hitting several cities a day, and now, they were back where it all started.  


Pitch hadn’t bothered to hide in the buildings this time, they were standing right in front of the doors of the palace, and Jack was bouncing with excitement. The excursions around the world had taught Jack many new techniques and skills that he never would’ve learned out of battle.  


Now, they were literally unstoppable. Bullets bounced off their skin and fire died in their presence, people cowered at Pitch and froze when they looked into Jack’s eyes.  


The winterling couldn’t even imagine what he could do if he let loose for real, he always pulled his punches with humans, he enjoyed watching them split apart, he didn’t want them to disintegrate. He also didn’t want to just cause a new ice age and wipe out the population. He wanted their suffering, he wanted them praying for his forgiveness. He imagined Pitch felt the same.

And now they stood outside the place that he knew Pitch had wanted for a terribly long time, and Jack was about to hop, skip, and jump up to knock daintily on the door when it flew open, and a small little old lady hobbled out. She was dressed to the nines and had more than two dozen guards dressed in body armor with her. It looked hilarious really, this short, old thing in the huge ornate doorways.  


Pitch outright laughed at her, and she looked rather obtuse at that. A few guards behind her drew swords from their belts, and she didn’t stop them. She opened her mouth then, and Jack busted out and started laughing too. She put her tiny hands on her hips and screamed at them.  


“I will not-!”  


Her yell was cut off by a sword of shadow-sand that Pitch launched into her mouth. It exited out the back of her skull with bits of brain on it. There was a terrible moment of silence from the guards, then the body fell with a thump, and they charged at Pitch and Jack, who both summoned razor-edged ropes of shadow and lopped their heads off with one swipe. It was their favorite move.  


Blood was sprinkled on the white stone like a terrible Jackson Pollock painting, and Pitch calmly wiped a spot off his face. "We don't care, ya old bag," he barked a laugh and strode past the bodies that littered the entryway now. Jack laughed and top-toed over them to follow, but stopped when a scream sounded behind him.  


A little family of four had witnessed the whole thing, and the woman was screaming while the husband was on the phone and rushing his family away. Jack turned to see Pitch already launching little daggers of shadow-sand at their backs. They fell with a muted thump, and Jack turned back around.  


Pitch was holding his hand out to him across the threshold, his grey fingers long and inviting.  


“You ready, Frost?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so damn sorry for this chapter taking so long! I've been a busy bee and a procrastinator, but here it is, finally! Hopefully you guys like it, it was a blast to write! :)


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